Hold Your Breath As The Silence Screams
by GCatsPjs
Summary: Season Six. B&B try to get through the pain that life hands them despite the attempts to move on.
1. Silence On The Line

_**Hold Your Breath As The Silence Screams**_

There was silence on the line, nothing but the soft breathing of another living soul listening to his words as he waited for a response. Three in the morning, the phone had buzzed on his bedside table. He didn't need to look at the name on the screen, he simply knew and he waited.

"Bones?" His voice whispered, glancing to the woman sleeping beside him, she was sleeping soundly, but his concern wasn't for her, it was for the person on the other end of the line.

She didn't answer this time, the first time she had dialed his number at this time since they had returned from their separate journeys. He thought that the phone calls would stop, he thought that the time apart had erased the demons or at least tamed them. He thought he wouldn't hear from her since Hannah had moved into his apartment, since he shared his bed with another woman. He thought that, but he knew better. Bones wasn't calling for pleasure, she was calling for comfort.

"You have to talk to me, Bones." He whispered, but as soon as he spoke those words, the line went dead.

He contemplated calling her back. He contemplated it for a moment and knew that if he tried, she wouldn't answer the phone. If she wanted him, she'd call him.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, his mind moving methodically through different scenarios. The time on the clock reminded him time and again what she was calling for, he knew her reasons, it was always the same reason, and always the same time. It didn't make him feel much better.

He rolled onto his side, staring at the phone on the side table, he waited for it to ring again, waited for her bravery, or her fear, whichever was what made her call at that time. He stared at the phone until his eyes flickered shut, not to open again until the alarm jarred him awake.

* * *

The next day when he walked into her office, she spoke nothing of the phone call, acting the same as she always did when she would call him in the middle of the night. They never spoke of their late night conversations, and he never pushed her.

She looked tired and ragged, she looked exhausted. He said her name twice before she looked up, and even then it took her a second or two to acknowledge that he was standing there. She said nothing when he announced they had a case, simply stood up and grabbed her bag as she followed him to the SUV.

The only conversation that filled the air from the moment he entered her office until he dropped her off at the lab, was work related. There was no banter, no arguing, and no exclamations of confusion over what something meant. She pulled open her door when he pulled up to the Jeffersonian and she reached for the handle, stopping the moment his hand touched hers. She turned sharply, her eyebrow rising questionably. She said nothing, and he responded in the same manner, the words that she spoke with his eyes expressed that she was not going to discuss it. He let her hand slide from his and she moved from the car. "I'll call you when we find something." Her voice whispered, he nodded and before he could even think of something to say, the door was closed and her back was turned to him as she walked toward the lab.

He was suddenly ripped from his reverie when his phone rang, and he lifted it to his ear. It was Hannah, solidifying their plans for dinner. He agreed to meet her that evening at Founding Fathers, and she could sense the tension in his voice. She attempted to force his feelings through the line, but he resisted, only telling her that he'd discuss it later, suitably dropping it before he announced that he had to go. He hung up his phone and lingered for a moment longer, his eyes staring at the door to the Jeffersonian before he slowly pulled the SUV into drive, and continued back to the Hoover building.


	2. If I Could Fall From Earth, I Would

She gasped and sat up in her bed, her body soaked in sweat, her mind racing with images of her dream and her eyes flashed to the clock. It was barely an hour into her slumber when the nightmare had come, barely an hour and now she couldn't get the images out of her head. She flopped back down on the sheets, feeling the damp coolness of her sweat that had soaked the sheets as she groaned and rolled to her side, staring at the time on the clock.

Two thirty. It was after two thirty in the morning. She closed her eyes against the temptation, her breathing was heavy and the visions continued to plague her mind. Nameless, faceless men, bodies, guns shooting into the nighttime. There were bright lights and dark corners, sadness invaded every surface of the dream until she had felt she was running. She was running through the woods from an unknown person screaming for her, screaming her name.

Bones.

It was Booth, Booth was chasing her… he was screaming her name, though when his voice got nearer and the name became clearer, the person calling her was not Booth but someone else. It was a masked man with large hands and a sinister smile. She screamed for help, but nothing came out, forcing her to scream into her dark, empty room, leaving her in the state that she now found herself in, staring at the telephone, willing herself not to call.

She had gone seven months without calling him, without hearing his voice in the middle of the night. It had been seven months and she had survived, she had lived through the nightmares. She thought of the panic in his voice from the night before when she had called.

She shouldn't have called.

He had moved on, he was with someone now, he shared his heart and shared his love with someone else… just as she knew it would happen.

Seven months she hadn't called him, but it wasn't that she didn't need him. She sat up suddenly and turned on the light, purposely ignoring the phone on the bedside table as she crawled across the cold sheets toward the end of her bed, flopping onto her belly, she kicked her legs into the air as she reached under her bed for a long forgotten bag. She pulled the dark brown duffel bag from beneath the bed and quickly unzipped it, her hands moving through its contents methodically as she catalogued each item that she touched with her fingertips. She knew she hadn't unpacked everything after her trip to Maluku, so she knew exactly where the object she was looking for was.

Pulling hard at the worn leather booklet, she extracted it from the confines of the bag and rolled onto her back, pulling the book to her chest, she hugged it to her and tried to regain control. She rolled back onto her belly and pulled the book up and opened it, scanning through the pages of handwritten letters and thoughts.

Seven months had gone by that she hadn't heard his voice. Seven months had gone by that she hadn't been able to express her fears out loud, but it wasn't because she didn't have them. Her eyes moved over the words that she had written nearly seven months earlier, scanning the dreams and letters and illogical thought paths that she had written in her journal, she flipped through page after page, day after day, week after week, month after month until she finally reached a blank page. She leaned over to the bedside table, her eyes catching the phone at the edge of it as she gave it a long, meaningful stare. She grabbed the pen beside the light and pulled it to the page quickly, though as soon as the tip of the pen hit the paper, her hand began to tremble.

The dream was drifting away, and she was starting to panic. She wanted to remember the dream, needed to remember the dream. She had to remove it from her mind or it would plague her. She glanced to the clock and sucked in a deep breath as she held her breath and closed her eyes, reminding herself that he had moved on. He had told her he was moving on, and that's what he was doing. Her hand continued to tremble and she tried to steady it by holding the pen harder in her hand. She gripped the pen so hard that her fingers were turning white from the pressure, her hand cramping and her heart beating wildly in her chest.

With an angry growl, she whipped the pen and book clear across the room, listening to the loud slam against the wall, she turned and pushed herself into the sheets, burying her head into the pillow as she tried to block out the irrational force that was making her want to scream, cry, that same force that was making her want to pick up that damned phone that was sitting just inches from her hand.

She rolled onto her back, reaching up to switch off the light, her hand landed on the phone, and she grasped it, pressing two simple buttons she brought it to her ear.

She was gasping for air, grasping for control, and more than ready to have the phone meet the same demise as the journal and pen, landing across the room in a violent thwack against the wall, she stopped everything the moment his voice came over the line.

He said her name. Once, twice. He sounded worried. She held her breath.

She then heard another voice.

Her heart clenched, and dropped, and so did the phone, tumbling from her trembling fingertips, she cursed herself for her weakness, cursed herself for her stupidity, cursed herself for her irrational feelings, thoughts, actions. She covered her head with the pillow so that she wouldn't hear his voice over the line as she waited for him to hang up the phone again, waited for him to just forget she existed altogether and continue to move on without her like he said he would.


	3. Tiptoe Around The Shattered Glass

Sweets tapped his pen on the arm of the cushioned chair. The session they were currently involved in was so thick with tension that it was nearly visible. His two patients were cordial to one another, and even addressed the other politely, but there was just something missing, or something so obvious that it was far too large to fit into his small office.

Everything Agent Booth and Doctor Brennan said was related to work, related to a case, related to the lab or interrogation, or some other aspect of their working relationship. Their posture was straight, and though Booth sat in his normally relaxed position on the couch, Doctor Brennan had her legs crossed tightly, her hands resting on her lap as she appeared to nearly be hugging the arm rest, her eyes never crossing to Booth unless looking for an answer.

Sweets watched their interaction, or lack thereof, and it was just eating away at him that he couldn't just reach out and grab these two highly intelligent people by the shoulders and just shake them. He had tried to shake them with his insights, tried to shake them with his meddling and his innocent questions about their past, their connection, their relationship, to no avail. Shaking was not going to work.

So he left it at that.

Left it at them sitting beside one another pretending that one of them was in a relationship based on love, and the other was happy for his happiness. He left it at trading banter for work talk, and eye sex for longing stares, exhaustion replacing the spark in their personalities.

"Is there anything else that you two wanted to discuss?"

"No." Their reply was curt and final, and offered absolutely no alternative.

"Are you both going to the diner for lunch? I'm starving." Sweets said, gauging the reaction of the two of them as Booth glanced to Brennan and back to Sweets.

"I was going to meet Hannah at the diner for lunch." Booth replied, his eyes refusing to move to Brennan and Sweets knew it was to avoid the slight eye twitch of his partner as she stayed stoic and reserved.

"I am going back to the lab." She replied.

"You can join us if you want to, Bones."

"No." She said, standing up, she glanced to Booth. "No, thank you." She said with a soft smile, she started to walk toward the door.

"Bones…" Booth said, standing up, he walked quickly toward her and Sweets noticed the quick glance toward him as he reached for the door handle and opened it for her. "Bones, can we talk for a minute?" He said, his eye flashing again back to Sweets as he watched the two of them disappear out of the door and into the hallway without another word to him.

* * *

Hodgins heard the sharp clack of Brennan's shoes from the moment the glass doors slid open. She walked purposefully through the lab and he kept his eyes averted from the moment he heard the sound of the card swiping through the reader, and the clacking continued to come nearer as he looked up from his microscope the moment a flash of blue appeared out of the corner of his eye.

"Have you found the time of death?" Her voice was cold and serious, not curious, but nearly interrogational.

"Still working on it, Doctor B." Hodgins said, fully expecting a dressing down of how their job is important and that the truth needed to be found in a timely manner, and tell him in her uniquely Brennan way that he was incompetent and slow.

But that never came.

She simply nodded. "Thank you, Hodgins. Please let me know when you have something." She said as she walked across the platform and took a cursory glance at the body on the table, before she walked down the steps on the other side and headed toward her office without another word.

He watched through the window of her office as she stepped through the door and moved toward her desk. Standing at his work station he saw her pause for a moment and let her eyes wander to the couch in her office. He could tell by the longing look on her face that she simply wished that she could curl herself onto the couch and go to sleep.

It had been weeks since they all had returned from their respective trips, and though he and Angela had never been happier, it appeared that Doctor Brennan was on a very slow and gradual decline both emotionally and physically. He had noticed that she had lost weight, her already thin frame becoming just a bit thinner, her large eyes seemingly lost in the caverns of the darkened circles beneath them that she continually tried to hide with makeup each day.

He had noticed her demeanor had changed considerably. There were no more jokes in the lab, no jovial atmosphere. It was work, always work and nothing more. She wasn't cold or rude, just simply quiet and kept to herself most days. Booth had made less and less trips to the lab, and Doctor Brennan appeared to remain in her office most days unless recovering a body or for their weekly therapy sessions.

Conversations with her seemed to be strictly work related, and she continually refused to go out after work for celebratory drinks. She offered no explanation, only excuses, and with each passing day Hodgins would hear Angela tell him how concerned she was for their friend. He continued to watch her as she sat heavily in her desk, resting her head in her hands for a moment before she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. He couldn't help but feel compelled to do something to help her, even if it was solve the case that he had literally lying in front of him.


	4. Crushed By Our Willful Obsolescence

Standing in the empty room with a set of remains on the table before her always used to make her feel calm. Her fingers deftly moved over the bones, reading them as if she were blind, reading a Braille book. She straightened her back, feeling the soothing pop of her vertebrae as she stifled the yawn that was inherently coming next.

Her eyes traveled to the phone at the corner of the table, the time shouting out at her as if it were a warning, and she averted her gaze. She was not at home, she was not trying to stave off nightmares. She was in the lab, bone storage… she was safe and alone, just as she had always wanted to be.

Alone.

Just left alone.

It is amazing the work that one can get done when left alone. Files are filed, reports are written, emails are answered, and when all of the busy work of the office was done, there were always the thousands of souls in bone storage to come to for solace. The only problem with being alone, she was quickly finding… was that there was no one there to reward you for getting all of the things that you needed to get done, completed. There was no celebratory drink when you were alone, no pat on the back, thumbs up. When you are alone, that's all you are.

She stared at the bones on the table, holding the rib in her fingertips, she stared at the small divots and markings of the bone. She let her finger run along the length of the bone, picturing the woman that it belonged to. She pictured the woman's body in her mind, all of the pieces together connected by muscle and cartilage, filled in with fat and organs. Lungs filling, moving the rib cage, heart pumping blood to the muscles, bones, organs, fingertips.

The sound of the phone ringing startled her, and the bone tumbled from her fingertips, rapping against the edge of the table, her breath was held as she grabbed for it. She watched in horror as it tapped her finger and proceeded to fall unguarded to the tile floor, shattering upon impact.

The bits of bone skittered across the floor and her gasp as she fell to her knees went unheard by anyone as she watched the bits of bone scatter across the floor. She could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest, and a lump in her throat as she stared across the floor at the tiny bits of bone against the floor as she cursed her clumsiness. Her phone beeped to indicate a message, and her stomach twisted as she ignored it and began to carefully lift the shards of bone from the floor, lifting them carefully into her palm, frantically putting the pieces together in her mind as she lifted each fragment as if they'd disappear if she didn't get them from the floor immediately.

Her phone began to ring again, and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to block out the sound of the ring, block out the knowledge of who was on the other line. She needed to get this done, she needed to identify this woman, she needed to be needed, even if it were by people who would simply take the body of their loved one and bury them in the ground, she was doing a service, she was doing her job. She was finding the truth.

Solving a puzzle.

Finding the truth.

She paused, hearing the beep of her phone to indicate another message she closed her eyes for a second, and took a deep breath, holding it for a moment. She quickly pulled back her feelings, her emotions, her sadness, and released the breath, opening her eyes as she continued to lift the bits of bone from the floor. When she was sure that she had every piece of bone lifted from the floor, she carefully pulled herself from the floor and placed the pieces in a tray.

She walked to the next table and sat in the rolling barstool that was awaiting her and put her back to the table of bones that were the rest of this person's remains, and her back to the phone that had caused her to startle and drop this bone in the first place. She then went to work, trying to put the pieces together of this impossible puzzle that was set before her.

* * *

Booth took another drink of the scotch in front of him, dialing her number again, he stopped himself from pressing the send button. She had obviously stood him up. His partner, his friend, had stood him up. He wasn't surprised that she hadn't showed up, he wasn't surprised that she had left him there to stare into his glass alone at the bar, and that she had refused to answer her phone. He put his phone into his pocket and sighed as he finished off his glass of scotch.

He stood up and dropped a few dollars on the bar, very sure that she wouldn't be showing up. His phone rang, and for a moment he had a bit of hope that it was Bones on the line, calling him back, his heart dropped when he saw Hannah's number flash on the screen. His finger hovered over the button to answer it, but he instead hit 'ignore', slid his phone in his pocket, and walked out of the bar.

It was nearly midnight, and the night guard was in the parking structure for the Jeffersonian. Booth flashed his badge and drove around to the employee parking. Her car was easy to spot, the only one left in the structure, and it looked as if it hadn't been moved since that afternoon.

He parked beside her car and pulled his phone from his pocket. He thought for a moment about calling her, and noted the two messages from Hannah. He put the phone in his pocket and walked to the elevator, scanning his card he had it take him to the lab.

He walked down the hallway toward the darkened lab and peered through the glass doors past the platform. In the corner of the lab was a light, Brennan's office. It was the only light on besides the dimmed safety lighting. He scanned his card and listened to the whoosh of the doors. He walked toward the light of her office, thinking that she'd be sitting behind her desk working relentlessly on a report, or her book, or some other menial task that she had decided to use as an excuse to keep herself from meeting up with him.

As he walked around the platform, he expected to find her clicking away at the computer, her fingertips flying flawlessly over the keys, but he heard nothing. He thought for a moment that perhaps he'd find her sleeping on her couch, at her desk, some kind of vulnerable position that his partner would never find herself in, but as he stepped into her office, he found it empty.

He could still smell the sweetness of her perfume, something that he had come to find comforting and right in all of his many years of working with her. He stared at her desk for a moment, taking in the scene before him. Her desk was spotless but for a tray that sit on her desk. Inside the tray there lie several pieces of broken bone, lying against the cold, hard metal tray. He stepped forward into the office and noted that her bag was beside the desk, meaning that she hadn't left yet. He stepped to the tray and let his fingers drop into it, running his fingers along the surface of the broken bones within. He moved the bones in a circle, trying to internally picture what it had been before it had broken, what shape these bones had been before he had gotten there, before he disturbed them in their resting place. He looked up to the sound of someone quickly approaching and removed his hand as if he had been burned.

He held his breath for a moment, waiting for her to appear in the doorway, and when she did, he watched a millisecond of surprise as her jaw set, and her hands gripped the bottle of glue in her hand tightly. "What are you doing here?" She asked, her voice a bit wispy and light.

"You stood me up." He replied, straightening his posture as he looked directly into her eyes for an explanation.


	5. Break Away From The Pain

If the air between them in Sweets' office had been thick earlier, then the air between them now was a brick wall. His eyes quickly catalogued her appearance very carefully, his eyes traveling over her features as if he were allowing himself to assess whether she was all there. He noticed that she looked much more tired than she had earlier, possibly a sign that her makeup was wearing thin of covering the lines of exhaustion and hiding the dark hollows of her eyes. She said nothing, and her lips were in a thin line of discontent as his gaze finally traveled that treacherous route from her lips back to those gazing beauties that were upon him.

He saw a flash of several emotions across her face, and none appeared to be very welcoming. She said nothing as she stepped dropped her gaze from his and moved across the room toward her desk. She looked down into the tray and raised an eyebrow. "Why did you come here?" She asked, moving the bits of bone around in the tray, she lifted her eyes to him.

He was a bit lost for a moment, and the way she was watching him was if she were trying to capture some kind of feeling or sense from him that this conversation was wrong, that he felt that he shouldn't be there. The only sense she got from him, however was that he wasn't going to leave until he had some sort of explanation for her actions. She let her eyes drop to the tray before her and she continued her task at hand.

Suddenly, he began to speak, and pace. He spoke and paced back and forth through the room, and she listened to each and every word, his inflection, and his tone. He was angry, frustrated, confused by her recent behavior, and he just wanted an explanation for it, an explanation that she was not willing to give him.

"I just want to know why you have been acting this way. You're distant, avoiding… you're quiet. You rarely go out into the field anymore, and we never go out for drinks. I thought that we were good, Bones. I thought that things between us were good."

"I thought that you were happy." Her reply was simple and as loaded as the gun in his holster.

"I am happy." He replied starkly, his eyes on her as she continued to work on the bone in the tray before her.

"Then why are you here?" She replied. "It is past midnight and you have someone to go home to." Her voice was clear and direct, and she still refused to look up.

"You're being so damn stubborn, Bones!" He exclaimed suddenly, his hand slamming down on her desk, he watched the bones in the tray rattle as she looked up at him slowly, and the glower on her face was one that made him step back involuntarily.

She kept silent and stood, looking down on the bones on the tray. "If you're so happy, then why are you here?" Her words were resilient and strong, and she slowly looked to him again. "Are you upset because I didn't come have a drink with you, or are you more upset because I won't tell you why I've called you for the past two nights?" Again, he remained silent as the rhetorical question dripped from her lips like venom. "I apologize for waking you." She paused. "I apologize for disappointing you this evening. I didn't expect you to wait for me… and I certainly didn't expect you to show up here in the lab shouting and carrying on…I'm sorry to have upset you."

"Stop acting like this is a damn therapy session and just talk to me!" He exclaimed as he slammed his fist down on her desk, harder than the first time, the bones rattled in the tray.

"Stop it." She said sternly. "Just stop it right now… If you can't respect the people in this lab… living or dead, then you can just leave. You walk in here with your attitude, and your angry posture, you come here looking for a fight. If you want a fight, I'll give you a fight, Booth… but not here. This woman, this woman here deserves your respect." She said, referring to the tray before her. "She's alone in a world with nothing, nobody… Sure, there's someone out there that will claim her at some point, but only after I have given her the time and patience she deserves. Do you know why she's broken, Booth? Do you know why I am sitting at my desk here at close to one in the morning trying to repair these broken bones? It's because you broke my concentration… for one moment, you rattled me… and caused me to lose precious concentration, and because of that, her bones are broken…"

"How was I supposed to know you were handling something so fragile?" He snapped.

"Because you know me, Booth. You know how I work… you know the care and thought I put into everything. I'm not blaming you."

"Well it sure as hell sounds like you are."

"I'm just saying… that you didn't know, and I'm sorry if it sounded that way. It wasn't your fault… but it is my responsibility to put the pieces back together and salvage what I can, and for that I need no distraction."

He wanted to ask her why she had continued to call him, why she wouldn't tell him what she was thinking or feeling like she had before they had parted ways. He felt like she was only giving him part of her, and not the complete person that he always had seemed to get from her. She walked around her desk and lifted her bag, glancing at the tray of bones on the desk. She looked to him and stepped toward him. "I haven't been sleeping well… I should probably get home and try." She said softly. She reached out and touched his hand, the first time she had initiated physical contact in for what appeared to be days or weeks. "I used to think that it didn't matter what happened to us when we died…that we all disappear, and the remains that our loved ones are left with will be buried and out of sight… and when we lose someone, it may seem like we can do that… put them somewhere where they'll always be there for you. You can't do that, Booth… you can't put memories and hopes and dreams in a box and store them away… because if you try, they're not real… they're not tangible, they're not something you can hold in your hands and say that it will always be there. Memories fade, dreams don't always come true, and sometimes the people we need… were gone before we had a chance to even try." She said softly. "Goodnight, Booth." She whispered as she turned and walked from her office, leaving Booth with the sound of her heels clicking on the tile as it slowly faded away and disappeared.


	6. Proof of Life, Proof of Pain

It felt to her as if she hadn't taken a breath between the time that she left Booth standing in her office, to the moment her apartment door closed behind her. She knew that that would be an impossible feat, but it didn't stop her from releasing a sigh that she felt she had been holding since then. The door closed behind her, and she leaned her back against the cool wood, her eyes closing in a state of surrender as she tried in vain to erase the thoughts that were cascading through her mind at that very moment. The words that she had spoken to Booth echoed in her mind and she furrowed her brow as she slid down the door to a sitting position against it, dropping her bag to the floor as she buried her head in her hands.

She had never felt this out of control before, she had never just simply walked away from a conversation with her partner without allowing him to say what he needed to say. She felt guilty that saying those things to him felt so good to her, she felt guilty that she felt such an intense frustration over having been broken over something that was so clearly her own fault. She felt guilty for hurting him, but also felt content in letting him know that she was slowly breaking and he was to blame.

She hadn't known exactly where she was going with her words, but once she had spoken them, they poured from her soul like water from a broken vase. They felt real, they felt stinging, they felt raw and nagging, and she knew that she had gotten through to him at some level, for if she hadn't, she knew that he would have most surely have stopped her from leaving the lab, or called her, or demanded an explanation. He had been speechless, and she had used that fact to her advantage.

Within just another moment, she lifted herself from the floor and walked toward her bedroom, pausing at the couch, she thought she perhaps would be able to stave off the nightmares of the past few nights by a change of scenery. Without removing more than her coat, she draped it over the back of the couch and pulled the soft afghan from the back of the couch as she sat down on the cushion and pulled her feet up onto it, lying on her back, she pulled the covers over her and closed her eyes. Very quickly and unceremoniously , she drifted to sleep.

It didn't take long before the darkness enveloped her mind, it didn't take long before her breathing became erratic and bloody, pain filled images filled her mind. Gunshots and shouting, crying and calling out, she couldn't escape it. She was running down a long hallway calling for help when water began to fill in the small spaces around her, pouring in from both sides, she looked up to see an opening far above her and called with her hands to the side of her mouth, hoping someone would hear her torture filled screams.

She shot up quickly, her hand reaching for the telephone on the table beside her, but didn't find it. She could feel panic rising up through her body, causing her to tremble as the cascade of images raged through her mind, the fear and panic, the screaming, the water. She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks as she climbed from the couch frantically and grabbed at her bag, tipping the contents onto the floor she flailed for her phone and couldn't find it. She sucked in a breath as she attempted to control the sobs, realizing that she must have left her phone in the lab, she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, her control teetering on the edge of her sanity. As she were about to let out a frustrated shout, she heard a light rapping at the door and her head snapped in the direction of the sound.

There was a pause, nothing, and her eyes flicked to the clock to record the time within her memory bank.

Another knock.

She stood up and walked toward the door, wiping the tears from her face quickly as she attempted to retain some semblance of control. She took a deep breath and looked into the peephole, noting the familiar face as his hand raised to knock.

She turned the doorknob and pulled at it, looking out into the hallway. "Booth?" She whispered.

"You forgot your phone at the lab." He said, holding the telephone out, she was going to reach for it and noticed that he was holding it just out of the reach of the chained door.

"Thank you." She said, holding her hand out, she said nothing more, simply watched him with questioning eyes, eyes that begged that he not push any farther, because of the delicate position she was finding herself on in the midst of this breakdown she was attempting to avoid.

"Are you okay, Bones?" His question slipped from between his lips, and she could see that he immediately regretted asking. He knew that she was 'not' okay, he knew that this was not her normal behavior. He could see in her eyes that she had been crying.

"I'm fine." She replied, her hand reaching a half of an inch farther into the hallway for her phone. He stood and watched her silently, her eyes begging him to not say another word, but as good as he was at reading people, he was just as good at getting what he needed from his partner.

"Did you have another bad dream?"

"No." She lied so blatantly, that she may as well have slammed the heel of her hand into his forehead. "I'm fine, Booth. May I please have my phone?"

"I didn't come here to just give back your phone."

"Can't this wait until the…"

"No." His response cut her off and he could see her swallow, hard and awkward. "It can't wait until the morning."

"Booth, I have to get to the lab early in the morning, I don't have time to play your silly games." Her reply was as she wiggled her fingers to indicate that she was becoming annoyed. He paused for a moment, his mouth open before he placed the phone in her waiting hand. She moved to pull her hand inside, and in just a split second, his hand was around hers. "Booth." She gasped.

"I stayed at the lab after you left." He watched her eyes as they remained on his hand. "I felt guilty for breaking the bones… for startling you. I…tried to put the bones back together." He said, watching her eyes lift to his.

"Booth."

He squeezed her hand, and she paused. "I tried to put it together, and I realized that I… I don't know the first thing about bones. I only know what you have taught me, but there is so much more. So many parts, so many pieces… so much work goes into knowing these bones, and I thought I knew enough."

"Booth, stop."

"I want to know more."

"Booth, I have to go."

"Bones. We've been home for weeks, why did you choose now to start calling me again? Why won't you talk to me about your nightmares like you used to before we went away?"

"Booth, I have to go." She whispered.

"Why don't you say anything when you call? I'm still here for you, Bones. Just because we've both changed, doesn't mean that we can't be friends."

"I haven't changed." She whispered, pulling her hand from his, she watched the hurt in his eyes. "Stay right there." She said softly, turning away from him, she disappeared into the apartment. He waited, the door was open just a couple of inches that the chain allowed, and after a moment he heard the sound of her feet gently approaching. "Thank you for bringing me my phone."

"If you need me Bones, I'm only a phone call away."

"I only call you if I need you." She replied, sliding her leather bound journal through the space in the door, he took it carefully into his hands.

"What is this?" He asked, lifting his eyes to her tired eyes as she looked back at him.

"Proof that I haven't changed." She whispered, letting her eyes remain on his. "Goodnight, Booth." She said, closing the door firmly behind her, he was left standing again, staring at the closed door in front of him, holding what he wouldn't learn for a little longer, was an open door to the heartbroken soul of his partner.


	7. Rules Of Fair Play Do Not Apply

The walk to his car was not memorable, and the drive toward his apartment was done in a virtual trance. When he arrived at his apartment he simply sat in his seat, grasping the leather bound book in his hands tightly. It had never left his grasp since Brennan had handed it over to him, and he had a feeling of protection over the inanimate object, the soft leather beneath his fingertips as he sat staring at the door of his apartment.

He knew that he couldn't enter his shared apartment with that book, not merely because he wasn't one to keep secrets to those he loved, but because deep within his heart, he knew that he could trust no one with the words in the book that he had been handed, not even the woman he was sleeping with. He paused for a moment. Most definitely not the woman he was sleeping with.

With a flick of his wrist, the car was in drive once again, and he was pulling from the curb in pursuit of a more appropriate place to read through his partner's words, a more fitting place, a private place.

He considered his office, the lab, but none of those places seemed to fit in with the knowledge of what he was about to read. He drove through the city, slowly weaving through any residual traffic, though the streets were relatively empty, until he came to rest at a familiar place. By now it was nearing dawn, and it surprised him when he realized how long he had been driving around the streets of the city. He pulled into a parking space and sat for a moment, his fingers still gently kneading the leather of the book in his hands.

He exited the car and closed the door behind him, looking up at the large church before him. He knew that the words in the journal were a form of confession from his partner; they were her way of communicating when she had no longer had him to confide in. He felt a great weight of guilt in his heart as he stood staring up at the steeple of the church, listening as the morning traffic behind him began to increase slightly in volume. He walked toward the large oak doors of the church and reached out for the cold handle that needed a bit of tug before opening, the carvings in the door catching his attention as he stared at the design for a moment. There were never ending circles, weaving their way in a pattern on the door, symbolizing the unity of the church and the sanctity of its peace within. He stepped into the church and breathed in that scent of candles and incense that always seemed to make him want to sneeze for a moment, before he became used to it.

He stepped into the vestibule and walked down the aisle toward a pew that was located just three or four rows in, the silence of the church echoed a soft creak of the wooden floor, and his eyes remained on the majesty of the church, the massive ceilings, the stained glass windows, and the carefully painted mural above him. He knew that this was the perfect place to take his partner's thoughts, not because she believed in God, and not because he believed in God. It was simply because he believed that the only person that deserved to be able to look over his shoulder while he read the words in this journal, was God himself.

He situated himself in the seat, his eyes closing for a moment as he spoke a silent prayer in his mind. He took a slow, deep breath and opened his eyes, as his fingers gently pulled open the leather cover of the journal.

Written in fine print across the first page was her scrolling handwriting, perhaps the most artistic handwriting he had ever seen from his partner, and the words echoed in his mind.

_All is Fair in Love and War_

He wondered for a moment if she understood the meaning of those words, and reading them only made him more eager to learn of the feelings expressed within the journal.

He very slowly turned the page, his finger slipping silently beneath that first page as the sound of the paper turning echoed through the cavernous room. The first thing that he noticed on the first page was the clear, crisp writing of his partner. She wasn't one of those people who wasted any time on anything. There were no colors or drawings, only words, written in black ink in a clear and concise manner, as he could only expect from Temperance Brennan.

The journal, he quickly learned was not simply a telling of what had occurred during her days away from Washington D.C., but a journal of her dreams, random thoughts, hopes, feelings, nightmares and fears. Hidden within the pages of this bound pile of intricately written notes, was the soul of his partner, and she had entrusted it to him.

Within moments, he found himself absolutely enthralled with the storytelling before him. It wasn't written in her overly thought out doctor speak, but written by the woman herself. She wrote of her constant worry for herself, her constant worry for him, and the confusion that it caused. She wrote of her happy memories, the things that she thought about that made her smile during the long, boring days digging up nothing but dirt and rocks in this strange place. She wrote with pride of herself of how she was able to handle herself in difficult situations, and how she felt that he was to credit for giving her the confidence that she had acquired, the means to communicate better with others, and the pause that she needed to not simply see things as black and white.

She wrote of how she looked forward to seeing him again, working with him again, how she longed to hug him, to tell him that she was wrong.

She was wrong?

He continued reading, his eyes scanning each and every word as if it were the key to some larger puzzle that he was trying to solve. Each page he turned, each word he read seemed to make his heart beat at a faster pace, causing his mouth to become dry, his fingers to tremble with anticipation of the next piece of the puzzle. The next thing he noted as he read on, was that the words on the page seemed to become slightly more frantic with each passing entry. Her writing had become slanted, shaky as she described nightmares and fears, and the happy memories seemed to be fewer and farther apart, the desperation of her words appeared to increase. He noted her sadness, the concern and fear, and his heart nearly stopped when he read the last paragraph of one page.

_I was wrong in not giving you a chance. I was wrong when I said that I couldn't give you what you wanted, what you needed. I was not wrong when I said that I could not change. I have not changed. I am the same woman that I have always been, the same person that you stood beside, protected, and loved. The only difference is that I found that hiding behind all of my fears, all of my worries, and all of my science, I may have very well lost the most precious thing that I had ever possessed. Your metaphorical heart. I haven't changed, Booth. I have simply grown, and done something that I have always done, learned from that experience. You have taught me so much about feeling and loving, so much about how I have always held everything at arms length. I am ready. I have always loved you, and I am willing to give you anything that you want in order to make you happy. I hope that when we meet again, I will find that you are still the man that I knew._

His breathing was erratic, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest as his fingers flipped through three more months worth of thoughts and nightmares, fears, feelings and heartfelt notes. He closed the book quickly, the resulting thwap of the pages slamming together echoed through the empty church and made him jump, as he gripped the journal tightly in his hands and closed his eyes. He was at a loss for words, at a loss of thinking for the time being, and in one moment, he was sliding from his seat and to his knees, pressing them into the soft cushion of the kneeler as he gripped the journal to his heart with both hands. He bow his head and tried to calm himself, as he closed his eyes and prayed that he would soon find a solution, and that he would have the strength to do the right thing and fix the things he had unknowingly broken and had no idea how to repair.


	8. As Clear As A Midnight Fog

The alarm sounded like a siren in her ear, and she felt as if she had a hangover. The depth of her sleep had been ruptured by the intense invasion of sound, followed by the sunlight poking effortlessly through her window shade as if a laser were being pointed directly into her eyes.

The alarm stopped after a moment, and she rolled onto her back, covering her eyes with her arm as she sighed, hearing it again. She suddenly realized that it wasn't the sound of an alarm, but the sound of her phone, and it was right beneath her pillow. She groaned as she rolled over, pulling the phone from its hiding spot, she didn't check the number before answering, and sleepily muttered her name, unsure and not caring if it was understood. Her eyes flicked to the time on the clock and her nose scrunched at the early hour, a whine escaping her lips.

As soon as she heard the slightly nervous voice of the woman on the other end of the line, she became more alert, her eyes opened as she asked the whereabouts of her partner. She had been anxious that he hadn't returned home, and quickly remembering the conversation with him just hours earlier, Brennan found herself at a loss for words.

"He said he was meeting you for drinks." Hannah spoke strongly, though there was a hint of hesitation and suspicion.

Brennan still could not speak, her eyes moving blearily around her bedroom as she attempted to pull herself out of bed, feeling the weight of her exhaustion as her warm covers and mattress beckoned her. She still could find no words, and the voice on the other line became slightly more panicked at Brennan's lack of conversation, her lack of communication, her lack of explanation.

"Is he there with you now?" Hannah asked, now her voice sounding like an all out accusation, the tone of which startled Brennan.

"No." Brennan groaned, grabbing her head as she sat up quickly, panting for a moment as she tried to regain control of her breathing. "No, he's not here. He left. " She stammered for a moment. "He's not here."

"I've tried to call him several times, text him. He hasn't answered his phone."

Brennan thought for a moment and couldn't help but feel just a bit of anxiety rising in her belly. Flashes of his face filled her mind, the fear, and confusion that was present in his soulful brown eyes. She thought of closing the door on him, and that sinking feeling that attempted to overtake her, before she realized that she had done the right thing. He had her most prized possession, her thoughts. The last place that he would take them would be to the bedside of his lover. It was then that everything clicked, and she realized that if Booth had needed help, he would have called. If Booth needed anything, he would have called her. She could hear Booth's girlfriend rambling on about her fears, when she simply interrupted with stating the woman's name, followed by a long pause. "I am sure that Booth is fine." She stated confidently. "He is after all, a grown man. He can care for himself."

"He never came home, Temperance."

"When you called him, did the call go right to voicemail or did it ring through?"

"It went to his voicemail."

"Then he needs time and space. He'll call when he's ready. He'll call when he wants to be found." Brennan whispered.

"He needs time for what?" Hannah asked, but before the sentence was asked, the line went dead.

Brennan fell back onto her pillows, staring at the ceiling, she groaned and furrowed her brow, pouting at the boring white paint above her, she sighed and begrudgingly rolled to her side. After a moment, she rolled and planted her feet on the cold floor, pulling herself unsteadily into a standing position. She was amazed at how insomnia and exhaustion could feel so close to drunkenness and a hangover all in one fell swoop, and she wobbled slightly as she shuffled across the room. Her eyes glanced toward the phone on the bed, as it began to ring again. She paused for just a moment, closed her eyes and shook her head, turning back toward the bathroom, she ignored the persistent ring, as she drown out the sound with the running water of the shower.

* * *

Booth stood in the waiting area, staring at the blank walls of the visiting room as he tapped his fingers on the metal table. His other hand clutched the leather journal tightly, his fingernails digging into the soft leather fabric that covered it as he waited anxiously. He wasn't sure what had brought him here. His mind was conflicted with so many thoughts, that he felt as if he were going insane, which was fitting, he thought as the buzzer sounded and he stood as the guard walked in the person he had been seeking.

"Agent Booth?" His voice was high and unsure, his brow furrowed in concern and confusion.

"Zack Addy." Booth said, holding his hand out to grasp the younger man's hand in his, he flashed a bit of a smile at seeing the younger man before him, he shook his hand firmly, watching the confusion in his dark eyes as he swallowed hard. "Just the man I was looking to see." He said as he felt Zack's grip become a little tighter as he shook it, allowing their hands to drop. "Have a seat…" He said, his voice becoming more serious and solemn as he nodded toward the chair as he sat in the chair across from him, and placed his hand firmly on the journal as he settled in his seat.


	9. Logic Won't Keep You From Jumping

Silence filled the small room, but for the sound of slight drumming on the metal table between them. Zack watched Booth quietly, analyzing the shadows in his eyes, the unshaven face. It was obvious that he hadn't slept the night before. He looked distraught, withdrawn, and fraying at the edges. There was no point in avoiding the obvious pain in his eyes, so he jumped right in.

"Has something happened to Doctor Brennan?" Zack asked in a monotone voice, he only had to wait a split second, but he saw it, the flinch. "Agent Booth?"

"Nothing has happened to Doctor Brennan." Booth stated, his voice just as monotone as Zack's, and he watched the young man's eyes narrow as he scrutinized the agent's face.

"Then why does it look as if you haven't slept for several days?"

"Because I haven't." Booth said, sitting back in the chair, he let out a breath and Zack's eyes rested on the journal.

"That's Doctor Brennan's journal." He said, reaching for it, Booth glared and pulled it out of his reach.

"How do you know that?"

"She has several of them, they all look similarly. She always took them with her on digs, rarely have I seen one out of her possession. Are you lying to me, Agent Booth? Is Doctor Brennan alright?" He asked, reaching for the journal again, Booth smacked his palm down on the metal table to get Zack's attention.

"She's fine, Zack." Booth said to the startled young man. "I need your help with something."

"You need my help with something? Is it a mathematical equation, because I'm sure that Hodgins could do a fairly good job with something like that. Is it a case? Do you need…"

"Zack, first I need you to focus."

"Focus on what, Agent Booth? You haven't given me anything to work with." He stated seriously.

Zack watched as the normally well collected FBI agent sat back in his chair, resting the journal that he held in his hands on his leg for a moment as he looked across the table at him. "Doctor Brennan and I have found ourselves in a bit of an impasse in our relationship." He stated clearly as Zack's brow furrowed.

"I don't understand, an impasse? Do you have a case that you're unable to solve together? Is there some evidence missing?"

Booth cleared his throat. "Not in a case, Zack. Are you even listening to me?" Booth asked.

"I'm sorry, go on."

"I'm a very private person, Zack. I don't go to people with my issues, typically… so bear with me here, okay?"

"I am listening."

"I came to you because you… you probably understand Doctor Brennan better than most people. You've been close to her a lot longer than I have, and I know that she trusts you. I know that she loves you." Booth said, his tone holding a bit of warning and Zack chose not to interrupt. "But I came to you because you're impartial, you're a straight shooter… in a loony bin or not, you're a genius… and whether or not you even realize it, you are a good friend of Doctor Brennan too."

"I still fail to see the purpose of your visit, Agent Booth. I'm sorry."

"No… it's okay, kid… I'm just… I'm in a relationship with this woman, a journalist. We met in Afghanistan, and… I love her; I mean… she makes me feel good. She makes me feel good about myself, about what I do. She loves me back. She's adventurous and beautiful, open and thoughtful… normal." He sighed, watching the slight smirk rising on the young man's face, his eyes narrowed. "What are you smiling about?"

"Did you come to me for relationship advice, Agent Booth? Perhaps you're suffering from post traumatic stress disorder from your time in Afghanistan. Have you experienced bouts of memory loss?"

"What? No!" Booth exclaimed. "This isn't about my relationship with Hannah, Zack. This is about my relationship with Bones." He said, dropping the journal to the table, he rested his hand solidly on it.

"Well, I do know that Doctor Brennan does rely on you quite a bit emotionally. Is this becoming a problem with your relationship with this other woman?"

"No, Zack… no… it's not like that at all. I… wanted to be with… Bones. Before we went away… before I became involved with Hannah. She turned me down. I told her that I have feelings for her, and she said that she couldn't become involved with me."

"I would assume that wasn't very good for your ego, Agent Booth." Zack replied, and in his classic aloof way, he completely missed the purpose of Booth's glare as he looked to the journal. "So… you… are happy and in a relationship with a woman that you love… I still fail to see the purpose of your visit, Agent Booth."

"I need… I mean… I can't talk to anyone who is close to Bones out there, Zack. Angela is too emotionally attached, Hodgins is all about romance and flowers, and Cam… well, Cam she just doesn't see things the way that you and Bones see things. She's not logical, none of them are logical enough to truly understand what I've done to her. I need to see things through her eyes, Zack… and you're the only person I know that has ever come close to thinking like her. She wrote in her journal… three months before we returned that she was in love with me. She wrote that… she doesn't see things in black and white anymore… that she's grown and learned that she loves me, that she wanted to try. Three months before we came home… that is two months before I met Hannah."

"So what you're saying, Agent Booth… is that she admitted her feelings for you before you met your current girlfriend. You came home from Afghanistan in love with this other woman, and Doctor Brennan…"

"I crushed her heart, Zack." Booth said solemnly to the young man across the table, and watched the wince on his face. "I didn't know that I had done it… she keeps everything so well hidden… but I crushed her heart."

"She told you this?"

"I can see it. I can hear it in her voice, her actions. I crushed her heart."

"And you came to me to see how you can fix it? Agent Booth… once a heart has been crushed, it's relatively useless… in an anatomical sense."

"I know that." He whispered, watching the concern in Zack's eyes, Booth sighed. "You and I have a lot more in common that I have been willing to admit to in the past, Zack."

"I don't know what that means."

"We both love Doctor Brennan, albeit in completely different ways… but you and I… we've both broken her heart." Booth said, watching the slack jawed expression. "Hey… don't pretend that you don't know, Zack… that you didn't see the pain in her eyes when they locked you in here… or read it in her letters. You're not a robot, kid… no matter what you've been told or how you act. You're a genius, but you're not an idiot. You've seen things, you've heard things… you notice everything, Zack. I respect you for being able to regain Bones' trust."

"You need to be honest with her, Agent Booth." Zack replied dryly, ignoring what he had said. "Life isn't a game, it's not a gamble… it's all we have. I understand that this other woman's feelings are at stake, and you do feel deeply for her, but when you truly analyze the evidence, Agent Booth. Which woman are you losing sleep over because you fear their broken heart?" Zack said, watching Booth carefully as he watched the older man's eyes flick between both of his eyes, as if he were trying to read the sincerity within them. "It is not impossible to love more than one woman, Agent Booth. There are many societies that view polygamy as a suitable lifestyle. I know that you don't believe that to be true… and I also know that your decision is not easy, and not reliant just upon your own actions and feelings… three people are involved, Agent Booth… You have two choices. You can be with Doctor Brennan or be with this other woman. In one you're sacrificing everything you know for someone who probably knows nothing about you… and in the other, you're risking your heart for someone you're willing to risk your life for. Which is more worthy? Which will not let you down?

"Which did you do, Zack?" Booth asked seriously.

"I chose the former, Agent Booth." He said honestly, looking up as the door buzzed open. "And look where it got me." He said softly as the hospital personnel came to escort him back to his room. He walked toward the door and Booth stood up, watching as they opened the door.

"Zack?" Booth said, watching as the young man turned toward him, his eyes curious. "I'm sorry I didn't visit you sooner."

"It's alright, Agent Booth." Zack said sincerely. "Sometimes it's only in times of crisis that we learn who our real friends are." He said with a slight smile, as he was escorted from the room, leaving Booth with the silence of his own thoughts once again


	10. Twist The Sword In My Heart A Bit More

Booth knew that he had to get to the office soon, his 'doctor's appointment' that he had called in for that morning would only last so long. He and Bones had a case to solve, and wallowing in one's self pity was not going to be one of the ways to do that. He pulled the SUV to the front of his apartment, sliding it into the parking space, he noted that it was a little after eight in the morning, and Hannah had probably already left for work. He wasn't sure at this point if he cared that she was there or not, simply because he knew that talking with her was unavoidable, there was no logic in avoiding his own home, no point in prolonging the inevitable.

He sat for a moment, the journal still resting in his hands as he held it protectively in his grasp. He considered taking it with him, but it occurred to him that it would be safer in his vehicle. Reluctantly, he opened the glove compartment and carefully slipped the journal inside, feeling a pang of guilt in his chest as he watched it settle atop the other documents in the compartment. He closed the door, latching it, and locked it with his key, wondering for a moment if he should feel ridiculous for keeping the journal under lock and key, yet feeling no remorse at all. Before exiting the SUV, he pulled his phone from his pocket and turned the ringer on, noting the number of messages, he scowled at the device as he rolled through the incoming calls. He found only Hannah's cell number and felt guilty for having ignored her phone calls. He was well aware of what he was getting himself into. With a resigned sigh, he slipped the phone back into his pocket.

He climbed from the SUV and made his way to his apartment, more than happy to finally be able to climb into the shower and change his clothes. He was just about to put the key in the lock when his phone began to ring in his pocket. He glanced briefly at the display and tried to deny to himself that he had smiled, but he knew that he had and left no time to chastise himself. "Booth."

"You answered." Her voice was a near gasp, and there was a very long, very loaded pause between the two of them. He knew she wasn't waiting for an explanation, just stating the obvious as she always did.

"What did you find, Bones?" He asked pointedly, knowing that by now she was in the lab, standing over their victim, her phone in her gloved hand, her eyes raking over the body before her as she tried to organize her thoughts. He heard her long pause and just waited patiently. "Bones?"

He heard her clear her throat, and like a whirlwind she began to explain the procedures that had already been performed on the body, and the findings that the team had come up with to explain her theory that the man on the slab had been bludgeoned with a dull instrument, something small and metal, but hard enough to cause skull fractures in a particular pattern. Time of death had been approximately a week, and Angela was currently working on facial reconstruction. When her explanation was completed, there was a pause so quiet that he was unsure if she had hung up or not. Then her soft words echoed in his mind. "Are you alright, Booth?" She asked, her words more emotion filled than the discussion of death and murder, he almost had to ask her to repeat them to ensure that he had heard correctly.

"I am alright." He replied, resting his back against the wall beside his apartment door. "I am going to get showered and changed, and I will drop by the lab on my way in." He said, listening for a confirmation or anything, but there was just silence. "We'll talk, Bones." He said, before hearing the sound of the click of the phone in his ear as she hung up.

He slipped the phone into his pocket and unlocked the apartment door, taking a step inside, he listened for a moment. He heard footsteps coming from down the hallway and for some reason, he didn't feel as nervous as he thought he would. This was, after all his apartment, his domain, his place of solace. He was a man, he had nothing to fear but his own guilt. He looked up as Hannah stepped out of the bedroom, obviously ready for work, their eyes met and there was a moment of pause.

"I'm glad to see that you're alive." She said with a raised eyebrow. Her lips held just a hint of amusement, but her eyes were much colder.

"Same to you." He said as he walked through the apartment toward the living room.

Several snarky comments popped into her mind as she watched the man before her walk away, his posture slightly hunched, his demeanor clearly saying that he wasn't in the mood to share his problems. She held her need for the upper hand at bay and waited for an explanation, or any type of communication that could make up for the evening of anxiety and worry that she had experienced. She took a step toward him and watched as he pulled his suit jacket off, loosening his tie, still failing to make eye contact with her.

"I'm going to go take a quick shower." He said, trying his best not to yawn, he draped his jacket over the couch and moved toward the bedroom. "I have to stop over at the lab on the way in."

"Where were you last night?" She asked, noticing there was no change in his steps, he just continued toward the bedroom.

"Bones couldn't meet me for drinks last night, so I just did a few other things that I had to get done… I must have gotten caught up in what I was doing, and before I knew it, it was morning." He shrugged. He turned and saw the slight irritation in her face. "I'm sorry if I made you worry." He said sincerely as he walked into the room and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Then why did Temperance say that you had already left when I called this morning?" She asked, watching his head turn so that his eyes could meet hers. "That would imply that you had been there last night."

"I stopped by her place when she didn't show up at the bar." He said seriously. "I wanted to check on her."

"So you checked on her, but your girlfriend, you leave sitting at your apartment waiting for you to call or show up." She asked, her voice holding a shred of determination, though he could see that she was just hurting, and wanted an explanation.

"It wasn't like her to not show up, Hannah. I stopped by, waited for her to answer the door and then said goodnight. Don't you trust me?" He asked, watching her lip slide into her mouth, her eyes on his determinedly. The pause that occurred at that point was long enough for him to feel his heart sink, and the pain in his eyes squeezed his chest. He wanted to ask her again, he wanted to reach out to her and gain that connection that they had, but found that he simply didn't have the strength.

"I'm not sure that we talk enough, Seeley. I don't believe that our relationship has ever been about trust before." She said after watching his face fall.

"But do you trust me?" He asked.

"I want to trust you."

"That's not the same."

"We haven't really discussed these kinds of things. We're only just learning about one another, about where our relationship is taking us." She replied, straightening herself, she glanced at her watch. "Why don't we talk about it over dinner tonight?" She replied, watching as he watched her look away from him and step backwards toward the doorway. "I need to get to work. Call me later, okay? If you get a chance." She said, without saying another word, she disappeared from the bedroom doorway and walked quickly down the hallway, and after a moment, he heard the door closing firmly behind her.


	11. Grasping For Life In A Bottomless Pool

Once under the hot spray of the shower, Booth attempted to sort through the thoughts that were making it impossible for him to concentrate on anything else. The water pounded in his skin, the heat was almost unbearable as he very nearly found himself punishing himself for putting himself and two people that he cared about in this situation. He allowed the water to pelt his skin, the streams of water pouring down his skin as he washed his hair quickly, not caring at all when the soap slipped into his eye causing it to sting.

He rinsed the soap from his hair, letting the hot water sting his face as his mind traveled to the journal that he had spent his evening reading, to the words that his partner had carefully written on the paper.

_Tonight I dreamt of drowning. I have that dream often, but this time it was different._

He sucked in the scent of the soap that he was lathering his skin with, and tried to rid his mind of the thought of her voice reciting the words in the journal, but couldn't escape it. She sounded so sad, so desperate and alone, and as much as he wanted to say that it was what she had wanted, he knew better than that. He knew her better than that.

_This time, it was me that was drowning, in a clear pool of water being held down by invisible hands. I could see you above me, watching me drown. Your eyes were so cold. I have never seen them so cold._

His eyes opened quickly and he found that the water had begun to turn cold, his body shivered, but he knew that it had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. He quickly climbed from the shower and grabbed a towel, he wrapped it around himself and walked quickly out of the bathroom in search of his clothes.

* * *

Brennan stepped down from the platform and headed directly to her office, her eyes focused on the lights in the distant room that would offer her solace and a bit of privacy as the current panic attack she was having begun to grip her.

Unfortunately, she found that she was not quick enough, for Angela blocked her getaway as soon as she had cleared the platform. "Where are you going?"

Brennan stared at her friend for a moment, her mind a bit muddled, her eyes a bit blurry as she fought the urge to yawn. "My office." She said, scrunching her face as the question that Angela had asked finally penetrated her mind and she had an answer.

"I have been saying your name for about five minutes now, Bren… trying to get your attention."

"Oh."

It was the only word spoken as Brennan walked around her friend and walked quickly toward her office. She could feel an intense anxiety attack coming on, and the last place she wanted to be was in the middle of the lab. She started to walk away, and she could hear Angela's heels behind her, practically running to catch up with her friend. "Bren, please." Angela whispered as they both made it to Brennan's office. When Angela made it into the office, Brennan walked around her and closed the door behind her, resting her back against it for a moment, thankful for the strong support of the wooden door behind her. She found herself staring at the floor, her ears ringing, and her head spinning with dizziness. "Bren, are you okay?" Angela asked, approaching her friend, Brennan looked up into Angela's eyes for a moment, and it frightened Angela. It was almost as if her friend didn't recognize her, the look of confusion in her eyes. "Do you have to sit down? Sweetie, look at me." She said sternly. Angela watched as tears began to appear in her friend's eyes, and the glassy appearance of them made her heart break. "Come sit down."

Brennan stared at Angela for several moments and tried so hard to hold her tears at bay, tried so hard not to break the solid wall that she had surrounded herself with, and all she could do was press her back against the door and stare. Angela reached out, and she flinched at the touch, and she was sure that Angela had felt it, for instead of leading her to the couch, she instead pulled her into a hug. "I have a lot of work to do." She whispered into her friend's shoulder.

"Nothing that can't wait another day, Bren." Angela whispered. "I feel so awful." She said, pulling herself from the hug, her eyes were willed to the brim with sympathy and fear for her friend. "I should have seen this; I should have been here to help you."

"I don't know what you mean, Angela." She said, pulling from the hug, she wiped her tears discreetly and sucked in a breath and she moved toward her desk. Her heart was still racing, and her hands were still trembling, but she was holding it together, she knew that she had to, at least until her friend left the room. "I am just a little tired, and it's causing me to feel a bit off. I'm sorry."

"Bren, this isn't just you feeling sleepy. You look like you haven't slept in days. You have been completely wrapped up in your work. You keep spacing out, and not usual Brennan spacing out, but really, truly spacing out. Something is going on with you, Bren. You need to talk to me."

"What I need, Angela, is for those remains to be identified." She said, her voice deepening into that serious tone she typically saved for her interns. Her eyes were filled with determination, and she was unsure where she had even found it. She could see by the look on her friend's face, that her stern tone had taken her aback, and Brennan could feel her resolve cracking. "Please, Angela." She said, her whisper was strangled and soft.

"Does this have to do with Booth?"

The name was like a bullet directly to her heart, and she tried so hard not to let it break her mask, but Angela could see it. She could feel the tension that was radiating from Brennan, and when the stern, sharp 'No' was emitted, it was the end of the conversation. She had made it quite clear that there was nothing further to discuss. "I have to work." Brennan said, sucking in a deep breath as she attempted to control her breathing, she stepped around her desk and sat down in her chair.

"I really think we should talk, Bren." Angela said, as a knock came on the door that brought both of their eyes to the door.

"That is probably Booth." Brennan cleared her throat. "Please get the reconstruction done so that we can get this over with." She said sharply, refusing to look up. "So we can get this case over with." She finished softly as she stared at her computer and felt Angela's eyes burning into her for another moment. When the knock sounded again, Angela turned and walked toward the door. She opened it quickly and pushed her way past the man on its other side, the man who looked just as weary as her best friend, though she made no attempt at conversation as she made her way toward her own office.


	12. Truth Can Kill The Bravest of Souls

Booth stood in the doorway, his eyes on the fleeing artist, who hadn't even greeted him as she stormed past, and turned his head to Brennan, who was staring intensely at her computer screen. He remained quiet, respectful in her domain and waited for her to acknowledge his presence. After a moment, her eyes lifted to his, and he offered a friendly smile. "Hey." He said, his voice was low and a bit broken, the lack of sleep having stolen the strength from it long ago.

Her gaze went from cloudy to clear in a matter of seconds, and she couldn't help but allow a bit of happiness slip through her like a ghost, though it seemed to disappear as quickly as it had arrived. "Hey." She said, her eyes shifting to right behind him, he read her look perfectly and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I am just finishing up something, and then we can talk." Her eyes remained on her monitor for several moments, and the butterflies in her stomach were churning violently. She wasn't actually doing anything on her computer, only trying to calm herself down before approaching the inevitable. She had been working on this conversation for months, honing in on her feelings, trying to understand the reactions and changes that had come with each passing day. She had a plan when she came home from Maluku, but since then everything seemed to have turned to dust.

"I see that you put it back together."

His voice surprised her, his words were tender and soft as anything, and her eyes lifted to his, her mouth just slightly agape as she tried to decipher what he had said, and it's meaning. He was sitting now across from her on the couch, his eyes watching her inquisitively. "Put what back together?"

"The bones." He said, nodding to the tray beside her with the newly glued rib, his eyes remained on the carefully reconstructed piece, his eyes following the curve of the rib, as they swept up and met with hers. "It isn't the same, is it… once it's been broken?"

"No." She replied, her eyes locked on his as her brain screamed for her to avoid eye contact, there was something else, something stronger that was forcing her to hold his gaze. "Once a bone is broken, it will never be as strong as it once was. Some studies claim that a broken bone becomes stronger after it's broken, but the accumulated strength is negligible. It'll never be what it was before. It'll never be the same."

He didn't say anything to retort, just held her gaze for several moments without a whisper or a complaint. She turned her attention to the computer screen reluctantly to break the connection, as she scrolled through old e-mails and tried to find her thoughts, tried to feel her way through the situation instead of think her way through it. She turned to him suddenly, reaching her finger forward, she turned the screen off and leaned on the desk, watching his gaze as it remained solely on her.

"Do you remember the case where we had to go undercover with the circus?"

"Of course." He said, watching her eyes fall to her fingertips as they danced a slow dance across her desk before her. "You were quite adept at the high wire." He said with an affectionate teasing voice that could do nothing but force a smile on her lips. He could feel the pride in his gut for being the one to bring that smile to her eyes, but was sorely disappointed when it disappeared.

"Right." She said, drumming her fingers for a moment, she seemed to become entranced with them. Booth knew she was just working through her thoughts and he gave her the time and space that she needed.

"Pardon me for using metaphor." She said, looking up into his eyes, she watched as it never faltered, steady as it had ever been. She saw his head tilt and the subtle lift of his chin as he sat back on the couch and watched her bring herself to her feet. He could see that her hands had been drumming on the desk partially because of the trembling he could see that was present in her hands. She seemed unsteady, almost dizzy as she stepped around her desk, her hand holding the surface for support as she leaned against it and stood before him. "I feel as though most of my adult life has been like a high wire." She said, watching his eyes as they searched hers. "I stand above most people, intellectually… so it's difficult for me to see them clearly. I find that my emotions are a part of this delicate balance upon a wire high above everyone. I step and step again, feeling the tense strength of the wire below my feet with each step, much like the tension that you and I have always had." She cleared her throat and looked away, not expecting the touch, but it is there, on her hand. He has reached across the divide between them and brought that connection back, and her eyes shot to their hands.

"Bones, sit with me." His words were not a question, but a demand, and she watched their hands for a moment.

"I need to finish what I was saying." She said, her brow furrowing stubbornly. He equated the look to a child who wanted to stay up past their bedtime, a stubborn look of frustration that was just the precursor to a temper tantrum.

"Go on." He nodded.

She didn't pull from his tender hold on her hand, for the connection for her made this confession real to her. She watched his eyes as they remained steady on hers, and though it was tempting to give in to him and sit beside him to allow for comfort, she knew that she needed to stand her ground. "I just… I feel like for such a long time, you have been my safety net. If I… fell from my wire, I knew that you were there to catch me. When we found my mother… when my father left again, his trial, the gravedigger ordeal and trial… each time, I felt like you were there to catch me if I fell, when I fell." She felt his hand grip hers a bit harder, and she could see the pain in his eyes. "I can't fall into you anymore, Booth."

"Bones." He said, standing up, in one movement, he had pulled her into him, embracing her tightly. He kissed her head and felt the sobs roll with the tempest that had come crashing through them both. His hand settled in her hair for a moment, and she sobbed into his shoulder, her arms at her side as she resisted his attentions at first. "It's okay…" He whispered, trying to hold his own tears back. "It's okay, Bones… it's okay." He said, finally feeling her hands snake around his waist and grip his back tightly as she pulled herself harder into him. "I am always here, Bones. I am always here." He said, his words cutting sharply into their moment of comfort as she pulled herself from him hard.

"No." She said sternly, pushing her hands against his chest, she could feel his hands as he tried to envelop her back into his arms. "No, Booth! No." She said. Her face was red, her eyes puffy and her cheeks wet as she shook her head, her palms flat against his chest, she could feel his strong hands holding her arms as she tried to keep him at arm's length. "I can't… do this anymore, Booth. I can't."

"Yes you can, Bones. We're partners… we've always been partners. Through everything."

"Not everything." She grunted. "You lied to me." She said, and he watched a flash of confusion. "Don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about. You lied to me about Afghanistan, Booth."

"I… I… Bones, it's not…"

"No." She stated firmly, wiping the tear from her cheek with the side of her hand. "We have been partners for years. I rely on your trust to keep me alive, and you rely on mine. You went to Afghanistan, and you were on active duty, you weren't just training men, you were in actual combat. We didn't go through that together, Booth." She said as she took a step back, pulling herself from his hold, they stood face to face. "I haven't changed, Booth… I am not going to change… but when you answer that phone when I call you in the dead of night, I want to know if I'm speaking to the same man that I was talking to before we were separated. I want to know that the person that I am releasing my innermost demons to is someone that I can trust!" She exclaimed angrily, just as he stepped forward and gripped her arms with his hands once again.

"Bones, stop it!" He said, tipping his head so that he could look into her eyes that had flicked off his face disgustedly. "Look at me." He said, shaking her just a bit with his hands, he was unsure if it were involuntary or not. "Bones, look at me." Her eyes moved quickly to his and stayed steady, narrowed and angry she watched him for a moment. "I lied to you, yes." He said, watching her eyes avoid his, he gripped her arms a little tighter. "Bones, look at me." When he had her attention, he tried his damndest to keep it. "I lied to you. I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm sorry, Bones… do you believe me?"

"Yes." Her voice was whispered, but the anger and fire was still burning in her eyes.

"I lied to you because I didn't want you to worry. I didn't want you to be concerned."

"It was after the fact, Booth. It wouldn't have mattered at that point, you were already at home."

"Yeah, but I was less concerned about that, and more concerned about breaking my promise to you." He said sincerely. "I promised I wouldn't put myself in danger, and I did. I promised that I would come home in one piece… and I didn't." He whispered.

"I don't know what that means."

"It means that before I left, I had forgotten what I hated so much about war, about fighting, about violence and guns and shooting. I realized when I was there, that I had nothing to fight for, nothing to protect, nothing to hold dear to my heart. It made me feel like I left part of me there. I was fighting for my country, and it didn't hold the thrill that fighting to protect you always held." He whispered.

"Until you found Hannah." She whispered, finding that she had been pulled closer to him, they stood nose to nose, no tears, no sadness, just sincerity and trust.

"Excuse me?" He whispered.

"You found Hannah while you were there… then you had the person that you were to protect. That's when you found happiness. She was receptive to your charms, your protection and bravery, and it gave you a purpose for fighting."

"I…"

"Then you came home." Her whispered response sent a shock of a chill down his spine, and he opened his mouth to reply.

A knock came to the door, and their eyes were still locked for a second more. "We should get back to work." She said into his eyes, holding the stare for a moment longer. "This conversation isn't over."

"No." He said, watching the curve of her cheek, his eyes flicked to her lips for a split second, before he released her arms from his hold, and allowed her to answer the door.


	13. Slivers Of Light Through Torn Curtains

Her quick getaway from Brennan's office had led her back to her office, where the reconstruction software was just about finished with its computer rendering of the victim. Angela stood a good distance from the screen, staring at the likeness of the person that they were attempting to identify as it drew itself onto the screen. Her thoughts were not on the victim, however, but on her best friend. Brennan had been acting oddly for the past couple of weeks, quiet and withdrawn, she was focused on her work and nothing else. Angela had noted the dark puffs beneath her friend's eyes, and the pale, withdrawn expressions on her face, and frequently had tried to get her to talk about what had been bothering her. Brennan always put up roadblocks to any attempt to help, claiming that she was fine, snapping and ignoring, and Angela could simply see the tenseness in her friend's shoulders, in her gait, and he way she spoke. It bothered her because she just wanted to help.

Angela watched the rendering as it appeared on the screen, her mind still wandering back to that other office, where she was sure that Brennan and Booth were having a faceoff, determining which could ignore their situation better. Sure, he might want to be there for her, and attempt to keep her safe, but it was obvious that he didn't fully understand the depth to which he had hurt Brennan. Angela felt a surge of anger rising through her body, her hand resting on her stomach as she tried to calm herself, tried to keep her emotions in check. Pregnancy had done a number on her ability to keep quiet, and she wasn't prepared to get into a shouting match with Brennan, she feared that if she started, she wouldn't be able to stop. It wasn't her goal to hurt her friend in any way, even if she couldn't see the reality of the situation like everyone around her.

She sat down on the barstool in front of the screen, happy to get off of her feet for a moment, she heard a bit of a commotion out in the lab, and stood up to see what was going on. She walked to the doorway of her office and noted a couple of technicians talking in a group, glancing toward Brennan's office, and it naturally piqued her curiosity. Angela walked out of her office and took a step, then another toward the technicians and watched them scatter like bugs, her glare only speeding them up as they went in different directions. She then caught the distinctive sound of her friend's voice break the quiet buzz of the lab, followed by Booth's short, angry shout, then silence once again. There was no deciphering what they were saying, and it was none of her business anyway, but she couldn't help but feel a twinge of protectiveness begin to bubble from her chest. She waited another moment, glancing around the lab as she approached her friend's office quietly, hearing the gentle beeping of her computer from her own office as it indicated that the rendering was completed. Finally, a moment of 'her business'. She wasted no time as she approached her friend's office, the voices within were low and indecipherable. She gently raised her hand and knocked on the door. The silence from the room was immediate, and the guilt that she felt for interrupting them was only a split second. Brennan was exhausted, and Angela knew that Booth was the cause, maybe she needed to be rescued, maybe she needed a break. So she waited.

She heard Brennan's voice, a pause, and then Booth, before the door opened to reveal the flushed face of her friend looking back at her. It was obvious that she had been crying, the emotion was written clearly across her face, and for a moment, Angela couldn't find the words.

"Ange?" Brennan said, releasing a breath that it appeared she had been holding, she brought her hand to her cheek and ensured that there were no residual tears, though she knew it was evident that she had been crying, and her face was warm and flushed. "Is the reconstruction done?"

Angela's mouth hung open for just a second, her eyes searching her friend's for something, anything, and could see the concern within them caused by the awkward silence. "Uh… yes. Yes, the reconstruction is done… my office." She said, nodding behind her as the door opened farther, revealing Booth's tall figure, his hand on the door as she gave a gentle nod. "Hey, Booth."

"Hey, Ange." He then leaned down toward Brennan, his lips just inches from her ear. "Ready, Bones?"

Brennan very nearly jumped at the sound of his voice, the closeness of his breath to her skin, and the warmth of the hand at the small of her back. Angela didn't miss her friend's hard swallow, or the look of surprise, as Booth carefully guided her from the room. She watched them walk quickly toward her office, his hand on her back, her stride long and purposeful, as she stood back and simply shook her head as she followed the two of them toward her office with a knowing smile on her lips.

As soon as they stepped into Angela's office, the tension seemed to dissipate, at least on the surface. Booth stepped ahead of Brennan, and the two of them stood looking at the face of the man on the screen before them. "So this is our victim."

"Yes." Angela said, glancing to her notepad. "Male, approximately thirty five years old, blunt force trauma to the head." The words she spoke were exactly what she had written down from Brennan's findings, her eyes were now on the two of them as they stood shoulder to shoulder, looking at the screen.

She could see that neither of them had been getting much sleep, and with the case pending, they wouldn't be up for much sleep anytime in the near future. They both stared at the image of the victim, and Angela could see that they were both struggling for what to say, an issue that had never been present in their relationship. Brennan turned to Angela suddenly, a slight smile on her lips as she nodded. "Very good, Angela. The markers appear to be accurate, send a copy of this to me, and to Booth, and we'll check the missing persons database for identification first." Brennan said, her voice slightly less robotic than it had been earlier, she then turned and walked from the room, leaving Angela and Booth looking to the screen.

It took Booth a moment to realize that Brennan had quickly fled the room, and his brow furrowed as he looked back to the screen. "Thanks, Ange." Booth replied with a nod. "Just send this to me, and I'll get it started." He nodded as he turned to leave the room. He was about to reach the doorway, when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to look into Angela's concerned expression. "We're working through it, Angela."

"You shouldn't have to work through it, Booth… you should be working on it." She said, her expression was knowing and her head tipped with her raised eyebrow, as Booth gave her a courtesy nod and walked out of the doorway toward Brennan's office. She was tempted to shout out at him that he knew she was right, but she could see by the speed of his retreating form that he wasn't in the mood for her all knowing advice.

Booth stepped into Brennan's office and to her desk, there was no pause and no pretense as he leaned against the desk as she sit now, writing on a form at her desk. "I would like you to meet me for lunch at the diner." He whispered. "One o'clock."

"I will most likely be busy." She replied without looking up. She could hear him breathing heavily from his nose, trying to remain calm and collected despite her attempt at ignoring him, she signed the paper, and looked up at him. "One thirty would be more sufficient." She said, watching his eyes narrow slightly, and the corner of his mouth turn up slightly.

"You'll be there?" He asked, watching her carefully, being sure not to reveal that he had seen the amusement in her eyes.

"I'll be there."

"Good." He said as he stood up straight and took a step back. "Because if you're not, I'm showing up here, and I'm dragging you there by your latex gloves and your lab coattails." He said, backing up toward the door. "I'm serious, Bones."

"I know, I know." She nodded, waving him off. "I'll be there." She said, looking down at the paper in front of her, she watched him leave out of the corner of her eye, as she finally let out the sigh that she had been holding in for far too long.


	14. Unwritten Chapters To The Same Old Book

It was nearly one thirty, and Brennan stepped into the diner almost cautiously. Her eyes scanned the chairs for a familiar face, and found that their table in the back corner was empty. Her brow furrowed as she paused in the doorway, and when she felt a hand on the small of her back, and a warm breath on her neck followed by his deep voice, she gasped. "You made it."

She turned her head to find herself nose to nose with her partner, and couldn't help but allow the smile rise on her lips as she raised an eyebrow at him. "I always keep my promises." She replied, trying to keep her reaction to his closeness to herself, but it was beyond her control and her cheeks were already burning before she had a chance to check her emotions at the door.

He smiled a boyish smile, his eyes sparkling at her as if he had found something that he had been looking for, something that he had thought he had lost. "Shall we?" He said, nodding toward their table, he carefully walked with her across the crowded diner to their usual table, and he watched her pull the chair out for herself and settle in her seat.

"Did you get anywhere with the missing persons reports?" She asked immediately, and watched him wave his hand to the waitress who nodded and turned to put in their usual order.

"I got a hit… we're looking into it." He said, obviously dismissing her question, but trying to remain friendly as he settled in his seat, leaning on the table slightly, he folded his hands in front of him. He lowered his voice, and kept his eyes on hers. "What I would like to do, is continue our conversation from earlier."

"Do you think that is wise to do in such a public place?" She replied, leaning across the table toward him, she also kept her voice low. Her eyes were a cloudy blue, and she appeared to be a bit more refreshed than she had been earlier. He wondered for a moment if her change in demeanor had anything to do with the conversation that morning, and he was incredibly curious about what she had to say about this entire situation. She eyed him for a moment, her eyebrow raised in curiosity as she sat back in her chair and placed her hands on the table in front of her. "Though, you're right, if we do have this conversation now, being in public will establish the proper boundaries needed to keep our emotions in check."

"Right, what you said." He nodded, understanding her reasoning, though the reality of the situation was that he didn't think he could go another evening wrapped up in his thoughts. The familiarity of the diner, mixed with the possibility of work talk was just what Booth needed to instigate his courage. He sucked in a deep breath and gave Brennan a bit of a nervous smile, his head nodding as he watched her eyebrow rise just a tiny bit. He knew that look, that subtle expression that passed across her face. This was an expression of challenge, and if it were anyone else, he'd pass, but she could see the questions in his eyes. He had instigated this meeting, and she was going to allow him to begin it. "If I had asked you not to go to Maluku, would you have stayed?"

She seemed genuinely surprised by his question, and her sharp intake of breath was a clear indication of that fact. Her lips pursed and her eyebrows knitted, while his eyes remained on her lips for a split second before moving back to her eyes. She suddenly looked more tired than she had just a moment before, and he feared that his first question would end up being his last. He thought of retracting it, apologizing for being so forthcoming, but stopped himself. These were answers that he was looking for, and she was the only person that could provide them for him.

"If you had asked me to stay?"

"Yes."

"In what capacity?" Her question was innocent enough, but by the expression on his face, she could see the frustration that was building. She felt her lip slide into her mouth, her teeth biting down on it in a subconscious nervous tick. "I ask too many questions." She whispered, and he said nothing, his brown eyes imploring her to speak, trying to find the answers in her eyes as if he were looking into a crystal ball. She straightened her posture and leaned forward, ensuring that his eyes were focused completely on hers. "You are my partner." She paused, hoping it would have the effect that she had hoped, but knowing that she needed to expand, for there was so much to say, so much that she had thought about and needed for him to know. "If you had asked me to, I would have stayed."

That sentence finally spoken, breathed with a sigh of relief from one, was sucked in by the other and swallowed as if she had reached into his chest herself and wrapped her fist tightly around his heart. His breath caught in his throat, and he physically felt her pain. She watched his hand clench, and unclench and tried to read him, but the emotions were so quick, so fleeting, so real, and there were so many of them all at once, that she found that she could no longer speak. His reaction had been so visceral, that she knew that he would have to recover before this conversation continued.

His mind was racing, and she was staring into his eyes. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus, and he felt his ears burning red as his heart clenched in his chest. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the blood rushing through his veins as he tried to control his frustration with himself and his partner. He was somewhere in the middle of deciding if he should stand up and walk out, or asking for her to continue.

His decision was made for him as a plate was placed in front of him, and the air rushed back into the room as his focus moved to the waitress. He looked up at her and nodded his thanks, as Brennan thanked her for her lunch as well. The waitress turned and walked away, and when Booth looked to his partner, he had found that he had lost her attention.

Brennan stared down at her plate, her fork in hand, she moved the bits of lettuce around. Her stomach felt sour, and she suddenly didn't feel hungry anymore. She could feel the intensity of his eyes on her for a moment, and then it was gone, fading into nothingness once again. She poked at the lettuce leaves, and he stared at his sandwich, slowly pulling the toothpick from the center of half of it, he lifted it and took a bite, the silence between them thick with meaning and screaming silence. The moment his bite reached his stomach, he felt as if he were going to be sick, and without warning or reason he tossed the sandwich down onto the plate. "Why the hell didn't you tell me this before, Bones?" He asked, his whisper so angry that it almost wasn't a whisper. She looked up at him with a wide eyed expression and he shook his head and pushed his plate away from him. "This is stupid." He said, failing to give her anything to go on as far as specifics of his outburst, she stared at his now disheveled sandwich. "This is just stupid."

"Booth." She whispered, hoping that she would keep his voice down, it was obvious that her theory that being in public would be a way to control their emotions was incorrect. "We don't have to talk about this now, okay?"

"No." He said, watching her lip tremble as she watched him with wary eyes. "I can't sit here another minute with you looking like this." He said, his eyes passing over her quickly, and for a moment she sensed an air of disgust in his words. "Like… like you lost your favorite puppy." He stammered. "I have been trying, so hard to work through this day to day hoping that you're just going to snap out of this funk that you're in. It's not happening." He said, shaking his head. "It's not working…"

"What's not working?"

"We're not working."

They were apparently taking turns reaching into one another's chest and squeezing their hearts, because this time it was Brennan that felt the painful sting of his words. "Booth."

"No, I'm not done." He shook his head. "You're not eating right, you're not sleeping… you call me up in the middle of the night and you say nothing. You gave me this journal… and… and the things that you say, the things that you wrote, the things that you felt are just sitting there right in front of me, staring at me, stabbing me… telling me that I am wrong, when it was you that broke my heart! It was you that rejected me!"

She tried to remain calm, but she couldn't help the tremble in her lip, the tears forming in her eyes. "Booth, stop." She whispered.

"You know what you mean to me, Bones. You know that I would do anything for you, that I trust you like I trust absolutely no one else in this world. You know what doing this to yourself is doing to me, yet you won't stop it…"

"Booth."

"Just stop it, Bones… stop the phone calls, stop with the cryptic conversations… stop with the…"

"Booth, stop." She said as she slammed her hand down on the table.

The diner went silent for a split second, or at least it seemed to for the two of them. She had never looked so determined in her life, and despite the tears that were threatening to fall, she gritted her teeth and moved forward with what she wanted to say, for it was now or never.

"It is not my intention to cause you pain. It is not my intention to get you to break up with Hannah. It is not my intention to get you to rescue me. The truth is that I am in love with you, Booth. I am and have always been in love with you, the journal should have told you that much. Seeing you happy makes me happy, happy that you have found happiness, but disappointed in myself. For as honest and as blunt, forthright and logical as I can be, and have always been… for as many equations and puzzles and mysteries as I have solved, the only thing that I have never managed to understand, is how you fell in love with me… because more than anything else in the world, I want to get that back… and I am not a gracious loser." She said, reaching into her purse, she pulled out her wallet. She dropped several dollars onto the table and avoided eye contact with him as she shoved her wallet back into her purse.

"Bones."

"Lunch is on me." She said, looking him directly in the eyes, he could feel her determination and knew that he couldn't say anything to get her to stop. "I have to get back to the lab." She said, standing up, she walked past him. He sucked in a defeated breath, and was about to turn when he felt her hot breath over his ear. A chill ran down his spine as she whispered into his ear. "Come to the lab when you have something that I can work with." She then made him almost jump as she reached over his shoulder, grabbed a fry from his plate and shoved it into her mouth, she then turned sharply and exited the diner without a second look.


	15. Blind Is The Man Who Walks In The Dark

The feeling of triumph, pride and relief was not a new feeling to Temperance Brennan, but it did feel like she hadn't felt it in a while. The moment she stepped out onto the sidewalk from the diner, she felt a sense of peace like never before just wrap itself around her and envelop her. She felt free, lighter, happier than she had ever felt, and though it could quite possibly have to do with the effects of her insomnia, she chose to take it for what she knew it was.

She had told him.

He pushed her, and she told him, because without him, there was nothing else to lose. She knew that she needed to lay it all out on the line. The journal being the first step, because she knew that if she had spoken those words out loud without him reading them first, the fallout could have been unrecoverable. She had allowed him to read those three words, feel them, sense them, touch them in her writing and her thoughts from their time apart. She gave him time to allow them to absorb into his mind, into his heart, into his soul.

She thought of what she had written in her journal, the nights that she woke in cold sweats with such torturous images, that she couldn't find sleep for some time. She thought of the daydreams she'd have, of what would happen if things around her began to fall apart, as they had in her dreams. She thought of the moments of happiness, when she'd think of something to tell him, something he'd find funny or ironic, or interesting, and she'd pull the journal from her belongings and write out these moments with a smile on her face as she imagined him reading them.

She walked down the street with much more pride than she had walked into the diner with, but the farther she went from those glass doors, the more her anxiety began to creep up on her. He had been quite upset with her when she told him the truth, and though she understood the implications of this truth, the reality was that she had no idea how he was going to react. She had nothing to compare her data to, because she had never in her life taken such a leap of faith, and for that, she was absolutely terrified.

Her pace became faster and she nearly slammed the door into another person's face as she swung it open and walked into the Jeffersonian, and she mumbled an apology and marched past them toward the staff elevators. She stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the lab, finding herself in full on panic mode. She started to breathe deeply, trying to control her rapidly increasing heartbeat. She wrung out her hands as the elevator stopped at the correct floor and she tried to regulate her breathing, and stepped off the elevator.

Quickly, she walked toward the lab, the glass doors sliding open as she walked inside, and made a line toward her office, hoping she would be able to make it there without running into anyone. Unfortunately, she was not quick enough, for when Cam called to her from the platform, she breathlessly looked up at her. "I'm sorry, what?" She said, looking to Cam, the other woman paused.

Brennan was flushed, and looked nervous, panicked. It looked as if she were trying to win a race just with the long strides she was making across the lab, and now that she had her attention, Cam could see that she was absolutely flustered. "Are you okay, Doctor Brennan?"

"I'm fine." She said quickly, swallowing hard, she tried to catch her breath. "I was just at lunch… is there a problem?" She asked, tipping her head, she shifted on her feet trying to quickly regain any composure that had been lost in the moments since her arrival.

Cam was very well aware that Brennan hadn't been gone long, and from the speed of her retreat to her office, something had to have happened, so she asked a simple question, not wanting to pry. She was very well aware of Brennan's attitude lately, and was only recently getting up the courage to confront her on it. "Um… no… no, I was just… inquiring if you had any news from Booth."

"Booth has indicated that he has identified the victim. I am sure that you will be notified when he has anything else. I will be doing another exam of the body once the flesh has been removed." She replied. Her voice was calm and polite, and her eyes were much brighter than they had been earlier. Despite her surprise at being addressed, she appeared to be calmer, and a bit more at peace with herself than she had been in previous days, and her eyes seemed a bit clearer, though she still looked exhausted. Cam quickly realized that Brennan was speaking to her. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water for a moment, and she was finally able to speak, choking out an 'i'm sorry?', before Brennan had a chance to ask her what was wrong.

"Do you need me for anything else?" Brennan said, her eyebrow lifting as she gave her boss a skeptical look.

"Uh… no… nope, I think that's all." Cam nodded.

"I will be in my office." She replied quickly as she turned and quickly retreated from the platform for the solace of her personal space.

* * *

Booth sat alone at the diner for quite a while, staring at his phone in front of him, wondering if Brennan was going to call him, wondering if he should call her. He felt guilty for getting angry with her, especially when he knew it was his own guilt that was causing him to act that way.

He had watched her walk away from the diner, her stride was quick and full of purpose, and her head was held high in triumph. On the one hand, he was happy that she was feeling good about herself for the time being, for getting out what she had to say. Though, on the other hand, he felt that it was at his expense, and for that he felt guilty. He watched her disappear around the corner toward the Jeffersonian, wondering what his next move would be. She had seemed genuinely happy to be at the diner with him until that moment when he had snapped at her, when he had been foolish and wrong and caused those tears to appear in her eyes.

He didn't want to feel guilty for making her upset, he didn't want to feel guilty for hurting her, but he did, and there was no going back. He poked at the French fries on his plate, grabbing one or two and eating them, though his stomach was still doing somersaults, less from what he had said, and more about what she had said, and the speed of which she had taken off after she had spoken them.

He was quite sure that she wouldn't want to see him any time soon, so when he got a phone call from his guys at the office that they had contacted some people connected with the victim, he simply put his phone back in his pocket, stood up and pocketed his partner's money. He tossed a couple of his own dollars on the table and walked to the register. He paid for both of their lunches, and promptly left for his office, hoping that somewhere along his day, he'd be able to find a way to make things right, with as little heartbreak as possible for anyone, even though he was sure that it was an inevitability.


	16. Please Take My Words As The Truth

It didn't take long after Brennan entered her office in order for her to find her within her zone of concentration. She settled behind her desk with her research, her book, and her reports and found that the time was simply flying by without her noticing anything but the occasional interruption by an e-mail or question from one of the techs in the lab. She hadn't heard anything from her partner for the rest of the afternoon, and though she had worked herself up to a bit of a nervous state. She quickly calmed herself with the reminder that he had a lot to think about, and that she could quite possibly not hear from him for days, though she knew that was extremely unlikely. This reality was confirmed when she turned her head for a moment to take several papers from a filing cabinet beside her. The sound of someone slamming something down on her desk made her jump, and her files flew into the air like confetti as she turned, poised to shout.

The sheepish expression on her partner's face was the only thing that stopped her from possibly causing the interrupter of her thoughts physical harm. His expression turned to one of almost humor as she narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing here?" She asked, her voice was low and a bit suspicious, and when he just smiled at her, she suddenly felt a bit annoyed. "What is this?" She asked, looking at the box in front of him setting on her desk, she glared at the box. She didn't want to give him an inch, not just yet, so she waited for his explanation.

"You told me to come here when I had something for you to work with."

"Yes."

"Well here you go, these are all yours." Booth said, watching her brow furrow. She looked genuinely irritated, and in his mind, that was far better than looking sad or upset with him. To him, it meant that it was business as usual.

"What is it?" She asked, reaching for the box, he pulled it into him and held it closer to him so she couldn't touch.

"Love letters." Booth said, watching her hands move to her side immediately, and her eyes widen in shock, her face turning a bit paler as she furrowed her brow again. He let out a playful chuckle when he realized what he had said, and what her reaction most likely meant, and he shook his head in an attempt to reel her back in to what he was attempting to get at. "Not from me, Bones… to the victim."

"Oh." Her statement was two simple letters, but it said so much more as she watched his fingers drum on the box, her eyes focused on them, refusing to look into his eyes.

"You don't even want to know the best part?"

"I didn't realize there was an option of a best part." She said, still staring at his fingers. He opened the lid of the box and pulled out a brown paper bag. Her eyes followed the bag and then settled on his proud smile.

"Oh Bones, with me, there's always a best part." He smiled. "I brought dinner." He replied, his voice definitive and clear, offering absolutely no argument as she looked at him skeptically. "I know you didn't eat, so don't give me that look."

"Booth, I don't really think that this is a good idea." She said, leaning down to lift the papers that she had dropped on the ground. "I have a lot of work to do, and besides… don't you have people at the FBI that can read through these love letters? You have subordinates that you've given work to on past cases, technicians… why would you bring these to me? I work with bones, not paper."

"You see… that's where you've gotten things all mixed up." He said, walking around her desk, he bent down to help her with the papers. "I am an FBI agent who works with paper, and Bones… Bones, being you, of course."

"I got that." She replied, taking the papers from his hands, they were both crouched behind the desk as she continued to pick up the papers. "But I have a lot of work to do."

"That has been your excuse for weeks, Bones. It's not going to work tonight. We need to get through this box, and I prefer to do it together." He said, catching her eyes with his. "Please?"

Brennan stood up over him, and looked down at him as she set the papers on the desk. "Don't you have dinner plans with Hannah?"

"I told her that we were working on a case, besides… she has to work late anyway… please, Bones? It's Thai…. Your favorite." He said, standing up to walk around the desk, he watched her eyes travel to the paper bag, her attention stationary on it for several moments as she thought about the request seriously.

She took a slow, deep breath, and her eyes remained on the paper bag. She tried to figure out from his tone and demeanor if this is something he had been planning, or if he had genuinely thought that she could help him with the case. Her eyes moved to his, his head tipping, the motion itself asking her to give him an answer. "I'm tired." She replied, and was dismayed by the frown that appeared on his face. "I am tired, and I feel that this is a feeble attempt at getting me to spend time with you so that you can gauge whether or not I am upset, while fulfilling your need to take care of me, and ensure that I eat a proper diet. If it has gotten to this point, Booth… that you need to make excuses to others simply to spend time with me, then perhaps you were correct earlier when you said that we weren't working."

He narrowed his eyes in irritation, he could feel the anger bubbling up as she practically raised her hands to him and pushed him away. It may simply be metaphoric, but he could literally feel the distance between them, and it was frightening. "I thought we had made some progress earlier."

"Progress of what? Having lunch together? Being in the same room together? "

"No, telling the truth to one another." He snapped, watching her eyes move to the bag again, and then back to the computer. "Will you have dinner with me, Bones? Will you help me?" He asked, his voice sincere as ever, she looked to him and gave a quick sigh, biting her bottom lip for a moment. "I'm not asking you to solve the world's problems, I'm just…"

"Yes." She said, reaching for the bag, she grabbed it from the desk. "Yes, I'll have dinner with you." She moved around the desk and poked her nose in the bag, smiling into it when she smelled the aroma of her favorite dish. He watched as she moved to the couch and settled on it and reached into the bag, she looked up at him and gave him an expectant look. "Are you going to bring the box over here, or are we eating first?"

He only paused for a moment, before he was on his way to her side, taking the plastic fork that she offered, he settled on the couch next to her. "Dinner first, letters after." He said, holding his fork up to her, she smiled, and clacked hers against his as she pulled her dinner from the bag, and handed it off to her partner, and in silence they ate their dinner.


	17. My Lips Are As Blue As Your Cold Heart

When the sound of chopsticks hitting the bottom of cardboard containers was the only sound that filled the office, there was a moment of pause. Brennan was poking at the remains of her meal while trying to figure out exactly what was going on, while Booth sat beside her, his eyes staring into the empty container of his own dinner, wondering what was going to happen next. He had walked into her office with no plan, just the knowledge that he needed to talk to her, they needed to have that conversation, so when the box of letters had been placed on his desk, he took it as an opportunity to have some quality time with his partner in crime solving.

He tapped the bottom of the box again, his eyes focused on the bottom. He slowly lifted them to note that she was watching him, though her gaze moved quickly back to her container. "When was the last time that you went to see Zack?" Booth asked, her eyes flashed up to his, and the chopsticks fell into the container as she pulled it away from her face.

"Excuse me?"

"Zack." Booth replied, knowing full well that his words needed no further explanation. She knew who Zack was, and she knew that she had been lacking in her visiting of her former student, but the reality was that she didn't want him to see her this way. She didn't need him to know that she was miserable, he didn't need that kind of pressure in his life. He had enough to worry about without having to worry about her. "I wrote him from Maluku."

"He said you haven't visited since you've returned. He said that you haven't even contacted him." Booth said standing up, he walked across the room, his back to her purposely, he tossed the container into the trash can and then turned on his heel. He wasn't surprised to see her sitting with a surprised look on her face, her chopsticks shoved into her container, she appeared to be formulating an answer when Booth continued. "I visited him this morning after reading your journal."

She was silent, his words marching into her mind like a band of instruments screaming for attention, for recognition, for some kind of acknowledgement. She could find no words, nothing would come to her mind, and for what felt like the first time in her life, Temperance Brennan was speechless.

"He doesn't hold it against you, Bones. He understands that you're busy." Booth shrugged, stepping over to the box, she was still sitting on the couch, staring at him. He lifted several letters out of the box and shuffled them together, his eyes avoiding hers as he pretended to be occupied with the letters, though his mind was focused on nothing but the woman that was sitting before him.

She leaned forward and set the container on the table a bit harshly, the hollow sound of the cardboard was loud enough to force his eyes onto hers. "I didn't even think you liked Zack."

"I like Zack just fine." Booth replied, his brow furrowing slightly as he pulled a letter out of an envelope. He concentrated on the paper as he read through it. "Here…" He said, handing her a small pile of letters, she simply glared at him. "Bones."

"I think you should go." She said softly.

"You think I should go?" He asked. His voice was full of genuine hurt and offense at her words. He hadn't said anything that he thought was out of line, and was confused by her sudden dismissal.

"Yes." She replied, straightening herself, she stared at the letters in his hands for another moment before she looked up into his eyes. "I don't think I'm prepared to have this conversation."

"If I didn't have you in my life, I would have ended it years ago." Booth said directly into her eyes. He watched her mouth drop in surprise, and a smile spread across his face. "That's what this letter says." Booth said, holding up the letter, he smiled a charming smile, he was surprised when she grabbed the handful of letters and slammed them into the box. "Hey, Bones…. That's evidence."

"Take your evidence and go home!" She exclaimed angrily.

"Bones."

"Stop." She said, holding her hand out to him, he did just that and watched her shake her head. "Just stop, okay? You're just… this is way too much for me to deal with right now."

"What? Work? You were working when I got here, this is just a shift in gears, Bones. This shouldn't be any different than doing any other work with me."

"That's just it." She said, her hand still extended. "I was working alone… it was quiet. I had some peace, quiet… I don't need all of this…" She said, waving her hands in the air. "All of this being thrown in my face."

"All of what?" He replied, knowing that she was purposely being vague. She was avoiding the conversation, and he wanted to know why.

"Because if I tell you what I really think, I'll hurt you. It's not my intention to hurt you, so it's just better that you leave. You can leave the letters. I can look through them."

"I'm not leaving the evidence." Booth replied. His jaw was set, squared and his eyes were burning into her. She knew from that look alone, that she would get nowhere by denying his request. "Tell me what you really think."

"No." She said, reaching into the box, she pulled a handful of letters out and moved swiftly toward her desk. She sat down in her chair and shuffled through the letters. "These aren't love letters, Booth. They're fan mail… the victim is an author, I've heard of him… he writes self help books." She stated, looking up at his sheepish grin as he opened another envelope.

"Yeah, probably should have mentioned that."

"You're purposefully withholding information, Booth. You think it's amusing to see me slack jawed and shocked by your comments. You are toying with my emotions, and I will have you know that I do not appreciate it." She replied angrily.

"I'm not trying to toy with your emotions, Bones. I'm just…" He paused for a moment of realization, knowing that he was actually doing exactly what she had said, though it was most likely not for the reasons that she believed. "I just… that's our thing, isn't it? To bicker…"

"This isn't bickering, you're being mean. It is unintentional, but it's still mean and cruel."

"I'm not being mean and cruel!" He exclaimed. "I'm being your partner, which apparently is something you forgot about how to be!"

"At least I don't forget about how to be someone's friend." She snapped back, walking toward him, she slammed the letters back in the box and started to walk away, when she felt his hand on her arm. "Don't touch me." She growled over her shoulder. "You of all people should know better than that." She shrugged out of his grip, and turned to face him.

"I'm sorry about what I said at the diner. I asked the question, and I didn't like the answer. I'm sorry."

"You didn't like the answer?" She replied. "You didn't like being told that if you had asked me to stay that I would have stayed?"

"No."

"I would have regretted it, ultimately. I would have resented you for asking me to stay. I think it's only fair that you should know that truth." She stated honestly. She watched his nostrils flare as he shook his head.

"You know… I can never win with you." Booth snapped. "I tell you how I feel, you tell me to get lost… you leave on a trip that you knew very well if I had asked you to stay, you would have stayed, yet you never told me this! You… write in your journal some of the most… vivid stories about your dreams, your nightmares, your feelings… but you get here, home… and you … You just…hide! You hide from me, hide in your lab, in your brain and you refuse to let yourself feel anything! What the hell is wrong with you?"

He asked, standing up. His face was red with anger, his jaw clenched as he spoke through his teeth at her.

"Get out of my office!" She snapped suddenly, lifting the box from the table. "Take your crap and just get out of here!" She shoved the box into his chest, and he lifted it from her grip and swung it around, dropping it back down on the table. He then stepped around the table and approached her quickly, in his mind saying a silent prayer that she didn't kick him in any of the many sensitive spots on his body that she was aware of.

His hands were on her shoulders, and her eyes widened at the contact as she battled between bursting into tears, and pummeling him until he begged for mercy. "Look at me." He said sternly as she avoided eye contact. "Bones, look at me right now." He said in a low angry voice. Slowly, her head turned, and their eyes met. He could see an element of fear in her eyes, an element of surprise and confusion as his grip tightened, sensing she would try to escape if he gave her the chance. "What do you want from me?" He managed to growl between his gritted teeth. "Just tell me what you want from me."

She paused for just a split second, her eyes imploring his as she felt the sting of pain in her chest. "I want to know how long it took you to get over being in love with me." She whispered.

"Why?"

"Because I need to ascertain how long it will take for me… to get over loving you."


	18. Can't Fix Something That Was Nevr Broken

_His hands were on her shoulders, and her eyes widened at the contact as she battled between bursting into tears, and pummeling him until he begged for mercy. "Look at me." He said sternly as she avoided eye contact. "Bones, look at me right now." He said in a low angry voice. Slowly, her head turned, and their eyes met. He could see an element of fear in her eyes, an element of surprise and confusion as his grip tightened, sensing she would try to escape if he gave her the chance. "What do you want from me?" He managed to growl between his gritted teeth. "Just tell me what you want from me."_

_She paused for just a split second, her eyes imploring his as she felt the sting of pain in her chest. "I want to know how long it took you to get over being in love with me." She whispered._

_"Why?"_

_"Because I need to ascertain how long it will take for me… to get over loving you."_

The words that left her lips were not at all what he expected them to be. The raw honesty that went into what she had spoken had nearly stunned him into a trance. He found his lips and tongue tripping over a retort, and his voice was lost somewhere between his mind and his vocal cords. He made a slight grunting noise, and managed to mutter nothing more than a simple, "I…" before the waves began to crash down around them, and the tempest that was his partner began to howl with a newfound vigor. Strength that she had somehow found in her soul began to rear its head as her words and confessions began to flow freely from her lips, truer and more real than anything he had read in her journal.

"You and I have been together for years, Booth. We started off our real partnership at odds, butting heads at every turn. We fought, Booth… every step of the way, we fought one another until finally we found what worked… not what worked in our job, but what worked for us. You and I then started fighting for one another… protecting one another, it was our job… our duty, our promise to one another to work together to even the score and put these murderers to justice, to right the wrongs that had been wrought upon them. It was our obligation, our skillset, our passion that put these people behind bars, but it was us together that did those things, Booth" She exclaimed, pulling herself from his hold, she began to pace back and forth. He stood still, his hands dropping to his side as he watched her walk back and forth, her head shaking as she worked through her thoughts, as she left him standing, not knowing what to do, what to say.

He chose silence.

"I was wrong." She said suddenly, her voice was strong, and there was no trace of fear in her eyes as they dared him to argue. "Okay? I… was wrong. I understand that everything that has happened between us has been my fault. I accept that. I accept that if I had just fallen into your arms that day on the steps… that things could be remarkably different. I have accepted that I hurt you, and you have accepted it to, is that correct?" She asked, waiting for him to answer. His head simply nodded just slightly, and her eyes remained on his as she turned her body completely to face him. "You spent years telling me that everything happens if you wait for it. People leave invisible marks on one another, you said. You told me that love was something that you hold on to, that is eternal, that making love is not about feeling love, but about being in love. You said that sex was not simply sex if you were with the person that you want to be with for the rest of your life. You still believe that." Her words were not a question, but a statement. He could stop her pain filled words, he could tell her the truth, the conflict, the broken feeling he had at that moment.

He chose silence.

"I did not reject you because I did not love you, you do know that, right?" She asked, the rhetoric bouncing from the walls as he simply continued staring into her eyes. "I didn't reject you because I didn't want you to love me. I rejected you because I didn't think that you would be able to deal with this… all of the time... for thirty, forty, fifty years." She said, holding her arms out as if she were talking about her whole self. "I didn't think that I deserved the love and attention that you give to the people that you love, Booth… because when you're in it, you're in it… and you're very, very good at it. You build this… protective bubble around the people that you love… metaphoric, of course… but you surround them with yourself… you say that you need someone to love for years to come, someone who will love you for years to come… and I can do that, I can love you… but I don't think it's possible for anyone to love me for that long." She watched him suck in a breath, and she knew he wanted to say something. His hands were clenched tightly at his side, and his eyes were dark with passion. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, she could see from the pain in his eyes.

He chose silence.

She stammered a bit as she began to pace again, no longer able to look into his eyes with that dark look within them. "I gave you the journal because I wanted you to know that I love you." She said, turning to face him, she stepped toward him and reached her hand out to touch his cheek. "I needed you to see how my mind was working, because I don't know how to express the feelings that I am experiencing. I thought that if we separated, that you would see that you needed me too, but you didn't. You did as you said you would, you moved on… and it's painful for me, but I am trying very hard to accept it." Her soft skin ran across his cheek, feeling the rough stubble on his skin, his eyes were slowly brightening, the passion in them changing just slightly, and his hands relaxed at his side. He sucked in a deep breath, taking in the scent of her closeness and immediately feeling guilty for doing so. It wasn't fair to him, it wasn't fair to Hannah, it wasn't fair to Brennan, but he couldn't resist her. He couldn't deny her. His eyes followed hers as he watched them drop to his lips, and back up to his eyes as she watched his lips part, his tongue running along his bottom lip. She stepped back, pulling her hand to her side, taking in her own deep breath as she watched him.

He chose silence.

"I understand that you don't need to hear this. I understand that you're happy, and I am sorry that I am having problems dealing with your happiness. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have someone in your life that makes you happy." She watched his jaw set.

This time, he chose the truth.

"I am not happy." He paused, watching her mouth open just slightly, he caught the glistening of her tongue as she wet her lips, and his eyes begrudgingly returned to her eyes. "I'm not happy in the way that you think I am happy, Bones. I'm not happy in the way that you think I want to be happy."

"I don't understand."

"I believe that." He nodded. Her head tipped curiously, and he knew that he was clear to continue. He stepped just slightly closer to her, testing the waters, and when she didn't back down, he knew that he continue. "You have always, always taken things at face value. You fight conjecture and jumping to conclusions at every turn, yet when it comes to your personal life, you fill in all of the blanks without evidence or reason. You threw out my evidence when I told you that I knew from the start… calling it anecdotal… telling me that you don't have an open heart… all of those excuses, all of those meaningless and stupid reasons that you gave me were all lies. Telling me that you have to protect me from you? That was the truth… that was God's honest truth right there, Bones." He could see the hurt in her eyes and closed his against them, trying to find the words. "You are… picky… you are bossy and… and mean sometimes… You make some people around you feel like… like they're beneath you." He snapped. "You try to understand emotions, yet you like to… to… dissect them like a cadaver… you place every single individual feeling into its own tiny compartment. Sometimes I wondered if the term 'compartmentalize' even existed before you were around. You used to be the epitome of compartmentalization, Bones… you used to be a brick wall. There was a time that yeah… I needed to be protected from you, because if I gave into my feelings of inadequacy around you, I'd probably have gone absolutely insane."

She gasped at his frankness, her eyes remaining on his, and they had become even closer amidst his words, their faces inches from each other. She watched his eyes as they traveled down her face, his hand lifting slightly to tuck a rogue strand of hair behind her ear, and when his fingertip brushed her skin, she felt a chill roll through her like a tidal wave, warming her. She ran her tongue over her lips again subconsciously, but her eyes focused on his. "But not now, Bones… I don't need to be protected from you now. It's like you said in your journal." He whispered, his voice low and barely audible. "You haven't changed… you've grown… you've experienced and learned… and you can read people now… and you're kinder, you're more sympathetic, you've taken those sharp edges that once were painful to others, and you rounded them out. You've grown Bones, but you haven't changed. You're the same woman that I fell in love with. You were right when you said my feelings for you had changed, but not in the way you think. I love you more now than I did on that day on the steps, Bones. Every single day you show me a new way that you've grown, and I can't help but be amazed by you. I can't tell you how long it took for me to fall out of love with you, Bones… because I never even got close to that point… and I'm on the complete other side of the scale, waiting for you to catch up."

His words were meant to soothe, to calm, but there was an immediate sense of panic, and he could see it in her eyes. Her eyes flicked between both of his, and he noticed the change in breathing. He knew that if he didn't do something, she would run, at least that's what he thought she would do. It took just a moment or two, and the panic cleared, as she closed her mouth that had fallen slightly agape. It was then, that Brennan did what Booth had least expected in all of his years of being with her both outside of work and in. She took a full step forward and wrapped her arms around him in a mighty hug, pressing her cheek into his chest as she held onto him, only relaxing when he wrapped his own arms around her, and returned the gesture with comparable emotion and strength.


	19. It Doesn't Go Away When Your Eyes Close

His fingers moved slowly through her hair, winding their way through the dark threads as he dropped kisses atop her head, resting his cheek where his kisses had landed, he felt her tight grip around him for several moments. He breathed her in as much as he could, her scent, her body, the memory of her words, and a soft growl escaped his lips as he turned his lips against her hair again. "I don't want you to hurt anymore." He whispered. "I never wanted you to get hurt." He whispered.

"I know." She whispered into his chest, allowing him to hold her, for she wasn't sure how she'd be able to keep herself together if he let her go. She held herself together as best as she could, their arms securely entwined, the kisses on her head so tender and love filled that she couldn't help but feel as if she were starting to get in between him and his happiness. She started to pull from the hug and felt him holding her tighter, another kiss to her head, and he slowly released his grip on her, holding her until they were looking into one another's eyes. "I'd like to sit down, please." She said, trying to hold his gaze for a moment longer, just to feel the warmth in it before she pulled completely from his arms. "I'm sorry." She said, turning completely away from him, she started to walk around the table to the couch, where she sat down and promptly buried her head in her hands.

"Bones." He said, following her around the table, he sat next to her, his hand resting on her back as he began to roll slow circles into her back. "Bones, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She groaned into her hands. She rubbed her face as she attempted to rub the sleepiness in her eyes. She was feeling light headed and weak, her legs wobbly as her hands trembled. "We still have a lot more to talk about." She said, her forehead now resting in her hands as she leaned on her knees for a moment, staring down at her lap. Her voice was low and full of sleep, and he watched as she trembled slightly. "I don't have the strength to do it tonight." She whispered.

"Then we won't talk any more tonight, okay?" He whispered, pulling her closer to him, she resisted for a moment, eventually giving in, resting her head on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around her tighter. He kissed the top of her head again, his hand rubbed her arm tenderly as she relaxed against him. They sat in silence, a companionable silence that wasn't filled with questions and fears, but genuine silence that both felt comfortable in. No breaths were held, no tongues were tied, and no hearts were breaking at that very moment. It was love in its simplest form, with trust and loyalty as the supporting wall that was keeping them both together. His hand rubbed her arm slowly, and he could feel her body relaxing farther into him. He kissed her hair again, feeling her body sinking rapidly into his own, tipping his head forward, he could see that her eyes had closed, and the weight of her body on him was a little more, her breathing softer and more regulated. He dropped another kiss on her head and let her fall into a deeper sleep, the feel of her body against his was a perfect fit, feeling right in every aspect. "I went to see Zack because I couldn't think of anyone else to talk to." He whispered against her hair. "When I was away, it was easier. I thought that you didn't care, I thought that you didn't want to hear from me, be reminded of our life together, of murderers and bad people. I thought that you had run because you couldn't stand to see our partnership crumble. I gave up on us, Bones… I gave up on you." He paused. "I hate myself for that."

He sighed and tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment, he wondered for a moment why he was confessing these things to his sleeping partner. He asked himself time and time again why he was such a coward, and why couldn't he just say these things to her face? He brought his lips back to her hair, kissing her head gently, he sighed. "I needed to find someone who was disconnected from all of this, who knew you and could give me some kind of… indication that it was possible to fix things, that's why I went to Zack. I know it hurts you to know that I love Hannah, and I do… I do love her, but… I can't… tell her things. I can't… bring myself to tell her things that could harm our relationship, you know? I don't talk to her about my past, my mother, my father. I don't talk about our work much, I don't talk about our past together. I don't want to be judged, and I know that she'll judge me, Bones… or I fear that she will. I know that beyond a doubt I can tell you anything, and it's because I know that you won't judge me. You give me things as they are, there's no bullshit, there's no worry that you're going to tell me to get lost. You tell me when I'm wrong, you admit when I'm right… and you listen to me. You think that you need me, Bones, but the reality is…I know that I need you."

He felt her shift a little on his arm, a small sleepy sound emitted from her throat, and he shifted on the couch a bit, carefully holding her while he moved, he very carefully crouched beside the couch and tenderly helped her to lie down. Her nose scrunched and she let out a defiant whine that was clouded with exhaustion, her eyes opening for just a moment, catching a glimpse of his face, her mind wasn't quick enough to catch why he was there, or where she was for that matter. All her mind wanted to do was rest, and her eyes closed completely as he very carefully lay her head on the pillow on the couch, ensuring that her entire body was stretched on the cushions. He watched her sleep for a moment, still crouched beside the sofa, his finger slowly trailing the strands of hair that had fallen across her face back into place behind her ear. He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her forehead, tenderly running his thumb across that spot as he watched her hand tuck beneath her cheek.

He stood up and glanced to the blanket on the back of the couch, noting that it had slid down at some point and was tucked beneath her, removing it would only succeed to pull her from her slumber. So, without a second thought, he pulled his suit jacket from his shoulders, leaned forward and very carefully lay the jacket across her. She shifted a bit under the warmth of the jacket but did not stir, and he watched her sleep for several moments, ensuring that she was comfortable. He took a step back toward the table in front of the couch and lifted the box of letters into his arms. He kept his eyes on Brennan as he moved toward the door, his finger hesitating for just a moment before flicking the switch off, darkening the office but for the lamp at her desk.

He then moved around the office, toward the desk, placing the box on the cleared table beside her desk, he lifted a handful of letters from the box and settled in her desk chair, turning to adjust the lamp so that it wouldn't glare in her face. He could see the shadow of her body sleeping across the couch, the light reflecting a soft glow against her skin as she slept soundly, her eyes were closed, the only sound in the room was the sound of her breathing against her hand.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, noting that Hannah had texted him to inform him that she had gotten home, that he didn't need to worry. He shook his head, a tender smile on his lips as he returned a message, stating simply that he hadn't been too worried about her getting home alright, and that he wouldn't be home, and not to wait up, that murder never sleeps, and that means he doesn't either. He arranged to meet her for coffee in the morning, and said goodnight, offering her a message of sweet dreams. He sighed as he put his phone on the desk's surface, shifting in the chair to put his feet on the desk, he glanced to his partner, she was now cuddled farther into his jacket, her nose pressed against the fabric. With a tender smile, he turned back to the letters, and began to read through them, silently reading the words of strangers as he watched over his partner and guarded her, as she slept soundly across the room.


	20. You Can't Escape The Bonds Of Despair

When she woke, she felt a cool draft in the room, pulling her from her dreams slowly as she felt her skin reacting to the icy air around her. Her eyes opened slowly, and she found that she was staring across her darkened office. She carefully sat up, her eyes focused on the light of her desk, her chair empty, her desk clear. She looked around and found that she was alone in the room, her arms bare and cold, her body achy and sore from sleeping on the couch. She felt exhausted and heavy, and the air in the room didn't feel right. She sat up slowly, groaning at the aching feeling in her back, the dryness of her mouth made her lips stick together as she let out a pain filled groan.

She felt so alone, so cold in her office, the frigid temperature hit her skin as she looked around the empty office, her hands rubbing her bare arms as her teeth chattered slightly, and she internally chastised the janitorial staff of the museum for letting the temperature get so low during the night. Her attention was suddenly pulled to the open door at the sound of a deep voice whispering in the darkness of the lab. She slowly stood up, feeling the creak and pain in her joints with each movement from falling asleep on the couch in such a cold environment, she tried to remain quiet as she took a step toward the door. She looked down and noticed her feet were bare but for the thin socks that she had put on that morning.

Slowly she stepped toward the doorway of her office, shivering with the cold breeze that seemed to follow her, and she noticed that the only light of the lab that were on were the emergency lamps above the platform. She saw a two figures on the platform, talking in hushed voices and immediately recognized the taller of the two. He was whispering to the woman before him, and when she spoke, Brennan recognized Hannah, their voices low and soft as her partner held her arms and spoke in a low voice.

"She doesn't have to know anything… she's sleeping." Booth whispered. "I don't love her like I love you… She's so cold… you, you're warm, alive... human. She's a robot."

"You want to be with her." Hannah whispered.

"No. I don't need her. I need you. You are what keeps me alive."

Brennan felt a tightness in her chest, watching these two standing on her platform in her lab was almost too much for her to handle. She wanted to call out to them, she wanted to shout at them, but found herself paralyzed, hiding in the doorway of her office as they continued to talk.

"Kiss me." Hannah whispered.

"Here?" Booth replied.

"Prove to me that you love me. Prove to me that you want to be with me…"

"How do you want me to do that? You want me to make love to you here? In the lab?"

"I want you to make love to me here…" Hannah whispered, touching the table that held the bones of their victim, set out and in perfect order, placed there with such precision and dedication.

There wasn't a moment of pause, or thought, and Booth's mouth was on Hannah's, pushing her toward the table, pushing her across the platform away from the table, away from the Bones.

"No." Hannah grunted against him, grabbing his shirt and pushing him off her, he panted heavily as he stared lustily into her eyes. "There." She said, pointing at the table.

"I can't." He whispered.

Brennan couldn't move, her breathing was becoming erratic as she watched his slight pause. She wanted to call out but found her throat was closed, and nothing could escape. She wanted to scream, but found herself unable to breathe, let alone speak, and her arms felt as if they were being held down by a heavy weight. She was being forced to watch as Booth took a step forward and crashed his lips down onto his girlfriend, his hands lifting up her shirt as he pushed her toward the table holding the bones of their victim.

She could hear the desperate panting of Hannah's breaths, the grunting of Booth as he pressed his mouth against hers with intensity born of carnal lust as he lifted her with his arm and pushed her against the table. Hannah's hand swept carelessly across the table, sending the bones across the metal surface of the table as the bones clattered together, mixed with the sound of passionate moans, grunts and the ripping of Hannah's panty hose as Booth swept her across the table on the lab, sending the bones flying to the floor in a haphazard wave, and the sound of the crashing bones to the floor were the only thing that could lift her from her paralyzed position she had found herself in, crouched by the door.

"NO!" She screamed, her voice ripping through the darkness and thrust forward in a violent fury. She leapt forward and was thrust into darkness as she fell forward and crashed hard onto something, or someone as she heard a sharp yell from beneath her, and then his voice. It was Booth, beneath her, holding her face in his hands as her eyes shot open and found herself staring into his eyes, sprawled across his chest on the floor of her office amid the items that had once been on the table in front of the couch, his eyes wide with fear so intense that she couldn't help but gasp at her surprise. She was filled with such anger and resentment, that for a moment she wasn't sure what was real, as she started to struggle against his hold. "Get off of me!" She exclaimed as she punched at him weakly, pulling away from him.

"Bones…. Bones, stop…"

"I hate you, get off of me!" She screamed as he allowed her to pull herself away from him, punching him one more time in the chest as she rolled off him to the floor and scrambled toward the couch. "I hate you!" She shouted again.

"Bones." Was all he managed to muster as she curled into a ball beside the couch, her breathing ragged and quick. "Bones, you have to breathe." He said, reaching out to her, he sat up, rubbing the back of his head, ignoring the pain in his back from landing against the table when she violently crashed into him. "Bones, please… please breathe…"

"I… I hate you…" She panted into her arms. "I hate you, go away… go away… go away…"

"Bones, it was a nightmare. Whatever it was, it was a nightmare… please?" He said, reaching for her arm, she swiftly swung her arm in his direction and made contact with his, sending a shot of pain up his arm, he ignored her hateful swat. "Bones, breathe."

She looked up at him with gritted teeth, prepared to attack him, prepared to hurt him again, prepared to tear into his very being like he had torn into hers, but the moment her eyes met his, she was lost. She stared into his eyes and all she could see them was the light reflecting on the bones from her nightmare, tumbling from the table so carelessly. She felt her heart breaking as tears sprang to her eyes. "Why?" She whimpered. "Why?" It was the only thing she could utter, as she sit trembling against the side of the couch, and closed her eyes tightly as she watched the skull from their victim tumble from the examination table and shatter into a million pieces.


	21. The Thin Line Between Reality And Fear

The way her body was trembling was like nothing he had ever seen before. It was true that he had seen people tortured, been tortured himself. He had seen people in pain, physical pain, emotional pain, psychological pain, but he had never seen anything like this before, and especially not from the most logical and emotionally controlled person he had ever known.

She was sucking in air faster than she could breathe it out, her sobbing gasps were desperate and woeful as he reached for her. His chest tightened when she pulled from his reach, and he tried again, with each word trying to calm her. "Bones, look at me." He said, trying to keep his tone from cracking, from revealing the fear that was hidden just below the surface. "Bones, please… please look at me, you're breaking my heart!" He exclaimed as he watched her eyes pop open, and suddenly, it was as if something had snapped in her brain, snapped her out of the clouded world that she had been swept into, her hands reaching out to clasp his shirt, and she allowed him to pull her to his chest.

She buried her face in his shoulder, trying to block out the visions of her nightmare in her head, trying to forget the pain she had felt, but finding no solace in his arms. "I can't." She sucked in as she pressed her palms against his chest, she tried to push away from him. "I can't, Booth." She sobbed.

"Bones… stop pushing me away." He whispered, gathering her into his arms even more. "Please stop pushing me away." He begged as she continued to push and scratch at him, grunting to remove herself from his grasp, but he held her tighter with each attempt.

"Just leave me alone." She said, too exhausted to fight anymore, she lost the fight and just gave in, and he pulled her tightly into his arms.

"I'm not leaving you alone. I'm never leaving you alone… You'll never be alone, Bones." He whispered defiantly into her ear, she was now grasping him with fisted hands, her fingernails digging into his skin. He held her on the floor, tipping so that he could lean against the side of the couch with her, he felt her body curl into his as he rocked her gently against him. "Never." He whispered. "You'll never be alone, Bones." He whispered, kissing the top of her head as he rocked her carefully in his arms.

Her sobs slowed with the passing moments, and he could feel her body stiffening in his as their physical closeness became apparent to both of them. He reached behind him and grabbed his suit jacket from the arm of the couch where it had landed, and he draped it over her trembling body, her fingers now kneading his shirt instead of grasping it, as she worked up the nerve to pull herself from his hold slowly. Instead of allowing her to move from his arms, he secured her comfort with his jacket, her head buried in his chest, and he rocked her gently against him, kissing her head with each forward movement. "You need to tell me what this dream was about." He whispered.

"No." She sniffled against his shirt, shaking her head for added emphasis, he continued to rock her.

"Please tell me."

"No." This time her voice was a strangled sob, a pleading sound from deep in her throat, that he wouldn't push her to talk.

"I need to know, Bones."

"No you don't."

"I have read your nightmares in your journal, Bones… you've told me them before. You trust me… you trust me, right?"

"Yes." She whispered immediately, sucking in a deep breath again.

"Then please tell me this one." Instead of a response, she was silent, allowing him to physically comfort her as he rocked her gently, the kisses still soft and loving on her head. "I thought that letting you sleep would be good for you… I had no idea your nightmares were so violent." He whispered.

"They're not."

"Bones, I couldn't wake you up… I was shouting right in your face and you just stared at me like you didn't recognize me. Then you screamed and jumped at me. It was violent."

"If you… I… don't…" She stammered against him, feeling another kiss on her head, he continued to rock her gently against him.

He could feel her trembling start to fade, her body finally pulling into his, resting into the gentle rocking. "I love you." He whispered against her hair. "You are the most rational person I know, Bones. You are the only real person in my life, Bones. You're the only person who knows everything about me, you're the only person that tells me when I'm wrong, or when I'm doing something stupid. You're the only person that tells me the truth, Bones… win or lose, you know that false pretenses are the way to pain, and you never let me get away with any bullshit." He whispered, kissing her head. "You know that these dreams aren't real, you know… that they're just your fears working their way into your consciousness."

"This was real, Booth." She said, turning to look into his eyes. "It was real."

"It wasn't real. I promise, Bones… whatever it was. Whatever made you scream like that… it wasn't real." He said, feeling her push away from him as she scrambled to her feet, pulling his jacket from her shoulders, she tossed it onto the couch and looked around the room for her shoes, which had come off at some point during the night. "Bones… please."

"I have to go home." She mumbled as she looked around the room. "I need my shoes so that I can go home." She whispered, moving toward the light switch, she tried to avoid eye contact as he moved about the room quickly after her.

"Bones, please listen to me, it wasn't real." He said, following her around the room.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore." She whispered, avoiding his hand as he reached for her, she moved toward her desk in her continued search for her shoes. "I need my shoes." She whimpered.

"Bones." He said, moving quickly around her desk, he couldn't catch her eyes, so he moved back around, his movement deft and purposeful as he stepped directly in her line of movement, and her slow reactions hadn't quite caught on that she was now standing against him, her eyes focused on his chest, his hands tenderly on her arms.

"I need my shoes." She whispered into his chest.

"I need you to see the difference between reality and fear." He whispered, as his hands moved to her cheeks, his thumb gently massaging the skin of her temple, her eyes focused on his lips for just a split second before he was staring into their endless pools of blue.

"You can't kiss me." She whispered, her tongue darting out across her lips involuntarily.

"I can if I'm trying to prove a point."

"What are you trying to prove?" She whispered, her voice gentle and breezy, her eyes searching his.

"That I love you, that this is real… that you will never be alone."

"I have to…" Her words were cut off by his lips nearing hers, his hands gently cradling her head as he pressed his lips against hers with a touch that was so light that it was barely felt, but for the hot breath between them. "Booth." She whimpered.

"Mm…?" His voice rumbled low and passion filled, inviting her to complete the circuit of electricity that was surging between them.

Her response was instinctual and surprising to both of them, as her hands gripped his shirt tightly and she pulled him into her as hard as she could, crashing their lips together so hard that their teeth may have clattered together, rubbing against their tongues as they each pushed their way into the other's mouth with passionate abandon. Her hands fisted his shirt, and his held her steady against him, until she tipped her head and rested her forehead on his shoulder, a whimper escaping her lips.

"Are you alright?" He whispered, breathlessly, feeling her head nod against his shoulder. "Do you want me to leave?"

She didn't move for a moment, and he knew that she was thinking. He was still catching his breath when she leaned back and looked into his eyes. She lifted her hand to his face, gently running her thumb over his bottom lip, his eyes following her movement as she too watched her finger run across his tender flesh.

"I compromised your integrity." She whispered, her eyes lifting to his, he watched them fill with tears.

"No."

"You're not a cheater, Booth."

"Yes, I am." He whispered. "I've been lying to myself for years."

She swallowed hard, the sincerity in his eyes was almost too much for her to take. "You should probably go." She whispered.

"Are you going to be alright?" He whispered, following her eyes as they fell to his lips, and she nodded, her hands flat against his chest, she could feel his heart pounding beneath them.

"You?"

He nodded solemnly, his eyes still on hers as he leaned forward and dropped a tender kiss on her lips, just to make sure that the electricity that he felt earlier was there, that it was real. "I love you, Bones. Don't doubt it for a second." He whispered, taking a step back, he kept his eyes on hers even as he walked around the couch and leaned down. He lifted her shoes from the ground and placed them on the arm of the couch. "I'll see you soon."

"See you soon." She whispered, as she watched him take a backwards step out of the door, and disappear into the darkness of the lab.


	22. Where Reality Is, Guilt Will Not Survive

Once she heard the resounding echo of the doors of the lab closing, and the security alarm arming itself, she allowed herself to let her shoulders relax. Her tongue darted across her lips and she could still taste the faint saltiness of his lips, mixed with the coppery taste of blood from her lip, when he bit down hungrily on it. He hadn't meant to hurt her, and she'd never admit to him that he had caused her physical pain, but the mere thought of that kiss, his hands on her, was enough to send a shiver of electricity through her body.

She took a step backwards, stepping down on something sharp, she gasped as reality came crashing down, and she stumbled toward the couch, landing hard on the cushions. She pulled her foot into her lap, a whimper escaping her lips as she checked the jagged cut in her foot as blood began to seep from it. Brennan now knew that she had been pulled from her dream most certainly, for she never bled in her dreams. She found herself staring at the wound, her eyes following the damage that the broken artifact had caused, trailing down her skin. She reached to the table and quickly grabbed a tissue from the box, placing it onto her foot to allow the blood to soak into the absorbent paper as she surveyed the objects strewn about her office and she tried to piece together exactly what happened.

She had recalled the nightmare quite vividly, and was surprised at how real it had felt, and how violently she had reacted to the images that had been presented before her. She pulled another tissue from the box and covered the wound on her foot again, mesmerized by the scarlet color of the tissue. She felt the warmth of her blood on the paper and held her eyes on it for a moment longer before she leaned forward and began picking up the papers and broken bits of artifacts that had been smashed when Booth had been launched across her office. She gathered what she could from a sitting position, and stood unsteadily on her uninjured foot to slide across the office carefully toward her desk.

She felt ridiculous standing on one foot, holding the tissue to her wound as she slid unceremoniously around the desk and opened the bottom drawer, pulling her chair to her, she sat down hard on it and immediately noticed that its recliner and height had been changed from what she always kept it at. Her eyes involuntarily rolled, knowing exactly who had changed the position of her chair, she caught herself imagining him in this chair, tipping back as he read through the letters that were spread over her desk's surface. She pulled the tie from her desk lamp where Booth had tossed it, shaking her head. Gently, she placed it on the desk in front of her, keeping her eyes on it as she pulled the first aid kit from the drawer of her desk and dropped it on the desk top with a clanging sound that sounded louder than she had intended. She flicked open the latches on the box and opened it slowly, smelling the antiseptic stench of the sterile tools within it. She pulled out a wrap and some surgical tape, along with some antibiotic ointment and tended to her wound carefully and purposefully.

Her eyes lifted as she taped the gauze in place, the makeshift bandage was enough to cover the wound completely as a dark object across the room caught her eye. She smiled a sad smile when she noticed he had left his jacket, and for a moment she felt the warmth from when he draped it across her earlier, sending her heart beating just a bit faster as she licked her lips without thinking. She closed her eyes to try to block out the image in her head as she thought of his shirt tangled in her fingers, but instead smiled at the thought, the guilt fading away with the warmth that overtook it, and slowly she stood up.

Carefully, Brennan walked across the room toward his jacket, pulling it up in her grasp she guiltlessly lifted the fabric to her face and breathed in his scent. She ignored the nagging voice in her head, reminding her that he was still with Hannah, that he hadn't proved anything, that he had left and could very well be in bed with his girlfriend very shortly, making love and forgetting about his promise to her. She ignored those thoughts with vehemence stronger than her knowledge of science, stronger than her need for the truth, because she truly believed in both her brain, and her heart, that his love for her was real.

So she took his jacket and gathered it in her arms, sitting on the couch, she pulled her feet up and curled around his jacket, closing her eyes against his scent. And with the memory of his touch and taste warming her completely, she drifted to sleep alone.

* * *

The moment Booth stepped out of the elevator in the parking garage he knew he had forgotten something in Brennan's office. He wasn't worried about his jacket, or his tie that he had left lying haphazardly over her desk lamp, he was more concerned about Brennan herself. When he had walked out of her office, he felt warm safe. He had felt as if he had something to accomplish, and the willpower and strength to do it. The farther he stepped from her office, however, the more guilt he shouldered. He felt guilt for hurting Brennan in the first place, guilt for knowing he would have to hurt Hannah. He felt guilt for leading Brennan into a passionate embrace without having the proof to back up his declaration of love, he felt guilt for leading Hannah into a relationship that he had felt was solid and true, his heart giving its all to her while his brain knew otherwise.

He felt guilty for sleeping with one while dreaming of the other. He felt guilty for his body's reaction to his partner's presence, yet the mere thought sent shots of electricity through him as he lifted his fingers to his chest. He could still feel her grasping him, feel her fingers kneading his skin, her tongue pushing eagerly into his mouth, and the soft whimper of her throat when they pulled apart continued to tug at his heart. He felt guilty for leaving her alone in her office, and guilty for the burden that he knew that she was carrying, guilty for her broken heart, her broken sobs, and her broken dreams.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't realized that he had simply walked past his car, his eyes focusing on the exit of the parking garage as he listened to the echo of his shoes on the pavement as he marched toward the cool air of the predawn hours. His feet carried him when his mind was far too muddled with guilt and pain to care where they would take him, and when he heard the familiar ding of the bell against glass. He looked up and his eyes moved instinctively toward the table in the back, a slight smile on his lips as he realized that his body and instincts were nearly three steps ahead of his mind.

Instead of moving to his typical table, he sidled up to the counter, pulling the barstool beneath him, he sat atop it and leaned against the slick Formica surface, and before he could say a word, a cup of coffee was slipped into place in front of him. He looked up into the eyes of a young waitress, a grateful nod, and his eyes sunk back to the hot liquid before him. Steam permeated from the coffee, the aroma sliding into his nostrils and directly to his senses, as he attempted to work through the clouds of self doubt and self realization that seemed to be cascading through his mind like a runaway truck in a downhill slide.

He dipped a spoon into the coffee, no cream or sugar added, just the spoon swirling in the depths of the dark liquid before him, much like the thoughts in his mind. He took no care in fixing his appearance. His shirt was still crumpled, his top button undone, his hair mussed and haphazard, and perhaps a slight mark of lipstick on his collar. He looked like a man who had been out with his mistress while the woman that loved him, trusted him, and dreamed of him sit at home waiting for him to arrive as he sit alone, guilty and broken, and the thought humored him.

Hannah was the mistress, not Brennan.

Brennan trusted him, and he trusted her with everything, beyond even the slightest doubt. It was not hearing from her that would make him rattled, her fear that made him afraid, her sadness that made him sad, and her pain that made him react. Of course he could tell himself, tell others that he loved Hannah, mostly because it was true. It was true, however in the way that a man loves his mistress. He loved the way she tasted and the way she touched him, but he could never share with her the things that Brennan knew. He could never break down and cry in front of Hannah, he could never feel fear in front of her without worrying of rejection. He could never break in front of her like he knew he could in front of Brennan.

Hannah was strong and stubborn, she was sexy and wild, dangerous and warm. But he knew that she was just a cardboard cutout of what he needed, what he wanted, what he had tried in vain to replace but couldn't do it in the face of what he had deemed his destiny.

He sat with that cup of coffee rolling through the early morning hours until the sun's rays began to make the sky glow behind him, until one cup turned to four, and when the sound of the door opening, and the gentle ring of his name off Hannah's lips tickled his ear, as he turned to face her obviously surprised face, and he finally admitted to himself that he was ready to do what he needed to do.


	23. The Coffee Is The Metaphor

There were moments of silence where there was the possibility of hearing the light 'ting' of a pin falling from a great distance as it landed on its head on a tile floor in an empty room. The sound echoing off the walls as the pin bounced from its landing spot and skittered across the floor unfettered, unwieldy, and unrestricted by motion or objects in its way, landing simply with the air of the room, stagnate and dry, as it finally came to rest on its side alone waiting to be discovered.

Then there were moments like this.

Moments of silence that were so loud, so cluttered, and so full of thought, purpose and consequences that the pure uninterrupted quiet of it all was just battering the side of your brain like a hammer being held by an enraged psychopath. Finding resistance only in the hard surfaces of the skull, and never in the soft confines of the flesh of which it was tearing through.

"Hannah." He whispered so softly that the voice sounded foreign in his own ears. His heart was beating so loudly in his ears that he wanted to cover them with his hands, close his eyes and let everything around him disappear. But he knew that the thought was irrational, he knew it was stupid. Hannah stood several feet from him, her eyes raking over his unkempt appearance and exhausted stance as he slowly stood up. Her mouth was slightly agape and she had stopped mid stride, her balance a bit off as she stumbled to a stop.

Wordlessly he stood from the bar stool, glancing to his coffee mug, he stole his eyes from hers and nodded to the cup when he had caught the waitresses attention. She saw that he was moving to a table, and nodded in return, lifting his cup from the counter, she moved to get him a fresh cup, and one for his guest.

He slowly took a step to the side, watching Hannah's eyes as they followed him, her silence was eerily calm and when she stepped with him, she noted that he had avoided the corner table that she had sat with him once before with Temperance, and pulled a chair out at the next table over. She sat in a chair on the other side, carefully setting her bag on the table beside her, she watched his eyes as they told her a story that she couldn't quite understand.

She wanted to speak but found that her voice was caught in her throat, and her heart was beating wildly as she watched her boyfriend's face hold a look she had never seen before. She wasn't stupid, she had noticed his change in behavior the moment she had caught up with him in Washington. She could see the sorrow in his eyes, apprehension, and fear, but today she saw none of it. From the look on his face, it was as if he had figured everything out, as if he were just looking for the courage to express it.

"I hope you slept well." The words tumbled from his mouth as he looked up at the waitress, his eyes flashing a grateful expression, and once again his eyes found their way to hers.

"I slept fine." She was surprised to have found her voice, hidden deep within her throat, she found her tone a bit defensive, and she was tempted to lash out at him for his appearance, for what it looked like, for dragging her out into the public realm to sit and have coffee as if they were a functioning couple. "You?"

"I fell asleep at Bones' desk."

Simple and concise, and not a lie at all, it was a start.

She straightened a bit as she poured a packet of sweetener into her coffee, noting that his eyes dropped to the cup before her as the spoon swirled the white crystals into the dark liquid, the spoon lifting from its depth to slip into her mouth, his eyes followed the motion entirely, as he focused on her lips, then to her eyes.

He noticed that her eyes were not focused on his, but on his shirt collar. He had noticed earlier that there had been a fleck of blood on his shoulder, perhaps from landing on the coffee table, perhaps from Brennan's fingernails digging into his skin. Perhaps it was from his own lip, bitten and bruised in the passionate lip lock that he had found himself in, that he had initiated, instigated, and wanted more of. He didn't know, and it was far too late for him to take it back. He watched her eyes flicker to his, and he could see the hurt, he could feel the pain.

"What did you do?" She whispered. Her voice was cracking slightly, and her eyes were filling with tears as she tried to remain strong.

A million excuses moved through his mind, not that he had considered using any of them, he just didn't know exactly how to word the truth without having it all come crashing down on both of them in the middle of the diner. "I made a mistake."

"Seeley?"

"I thought that if I pretended that something didn't exist, then it didn't exist." He whispered. "I mean… you know when you're a kid, and you learn about dinosaurs… and they tell you that dinosaurs have this… vision, where unless their target is moving, they can't see it?"

"Seeley, what are you talking about?"

"Well… my relationship with Bones wasn't moving… I didn't see it. I thought it was gone, and I left."

"Seeley, are you alright? You're not making any sense."

Booth stared at her as if he couldn't believe his eyes, his mouth was dry, and his stomach was wrenching violently. He wanted nothing more than to stand up and simply walk out of the diner and never turn around. Logically though, that would be a mistake. Logically, that would be stupid.

Logically?

Suddenly a thought came into his mind like a freight train, barreling full speed with the brakes burned out. Somehow in the midst of all of the confusion, the separation, pain filled phone calls and desperate embraces, Booth had become the logical one.

He had embraced the compartmentalization, the distance, the quiet rumination of thoughts and feelings and had carefully packaged them into the tiny boxes that Brennan had so succinctly claimed that it was impossible to do. He had become the rational one, the logical one, the one that over thought each individual thought and word spoken, and what had Brennan become? She had become open and honest, her words speaking volumes that her eyes had once been the key to. She was talking and expressing, writing down her thoughts and feelings and telling him that it wasn't right to keep things inside. He had freed her from the bonds of her own sadness and sacrifices, and now it was her turn.

Hannah watched Booth struggle with speaking, she had never seen him as unraveled as he was at this moment, his brown eyes filled with confusion and thought, until the words that she could claim that she had seen coming from miles away came spewing from his mouth.

"I am in love with Bones."

And just like that, silence.

It wasn't the loud, obnoxious silence that had been pumping with each heartbeat in her ears, it wasn't the kind of silence in which you knew there was a punch line, or a joke that was coming next. This was the kind of silence where you sat and you waited for that skittering sound of that needle to slide across the floor to its final resting place.

"Excuse me?" Hannah whispered.

His eyes closed just then, and she couldn't tell if he was concentrating, or planning an escape route in his head. His hands were trembling, and it appeared that it was almost as if his teeth were on the verge of chattering as his jaw set squarely. He opened his eyes, and looked directly into hers.

"I am exhausted." He whispered. "I have spent my entire life trying to please other people… my entire life. You don't know anything about me, Hannah. You just… you try, and I try… and we click, right? But Bones, she knows everything."

"Seeley, I really don't need to hear this." She replied, starting to pull her chair out, he reached out and touched her hand, and she pulled it away, the hurt in her eyes was obvious, and his chest ached for the pain he was inflicting.

"Hannah, please just listen for a second." He said, watching her settle in the chair a bit, though she had her hand on her bag, obviously ready to flee.

"No." She shook her head. "You listen to me." She spoke in a low voice as she leaned over the table slightly. "I am an investigative reporter, Seeley. It is my job, my life to investigate people, situations, and have the insight and instinct to predict danger. From the moment that I met Temperance, I knew that she was dangerous. You don't need to tell me of your past, or about how you're connected, it's as obvious as the Washington Monument in the D.C. skyline, Seeley. I could see from the way she looks at you, the way she trusts you, the way she knows you… that this was way beyond my grasp before I even set foot on American soil all of those weeks ago. I didn't need the nighttime phone calls, the late night excuses, or the lipstick on your collar to know that things were going downhill between us."

"Hannah." He said, trying to interrupt her, but the more she spoke, the stronger her resolve grew.

"No." She shook her head. "Save it, okay? I don't need to know what happened last night… if anything did happen last night. What you and I had, Seeley… our relationship? It was an exciting fling in a turbulent atmosphere. You bring it here to D.C. and you and I are as dull as dirt. I can't live like this." She said, sighing.

"Hannah, nothing…"

"Last night before I sent you the text message to tell you that I was home safe… I put a call in to my editor. They're sending me back to Iraq at the end of the week." She said, as she stood up and shouldered her bag. "Is there any reason that I should come back?" She whispered.

He chose to be silent.

And with a resounding nod, and a sharp intake of breath, Hannah Burley turned on her heel and walked confidently and proudly from the diner, without even a glance back at the man that she had left behind.

"Please be careful." Was all he managed to whisper, before his eyes dropped back to the once steaming liquid before him, which had cooled to room temperature, reducing it to its now tasteless and bitter state. With a resounding sigh, and a pinch of the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Booth stood up and yawned.

He pulled his wallet from his pocket and tossed several dollars onto the surface to cover the coffees, and a plentiful tip for having to deal with his silent vigil all night long. He then pocketed his wallet and nodded a goodbye to the waitress, as he stepped out into the early morning light. A shot of refreshing morning wind slid across his skin, as he began to walk down the street alone, on a quest to find a fresh cup of coffee.


	24. The Sky Is Clear,But The Tempest Rages

She was too exhausted to dream, too exhausted to fight the dizzy, dark abyss of sleep, and when she smelled the mix of coffee and vanilla wafting through the air, she curled farther into herself, and her brain hadn't registered reality or dream. She felt a tickle on her face, something soft and warm running across her cheek. Her nose wiggled against the offending object as her mind played wild tricks on her, and her hand pulled out to itch the tickle, grasping instead onto two fingers that were sliding down her cheek.

She gasped in surprise, her eyes popping open so quickly that her head throbbed from the sudden onslaught of reality, and unfocused and frightened she held the fingers in her hand tightly, pulling them back.

There was a slight yelp from the owner of the fingers, and in a split second of realization, she saw him sitting there, crouched and wincing in pain as he pulled his fingers from her grasp. "Booth." She whispered, sitting up, she nearly slammed her head into his, he smiled tenderly at her, his eyebrows rising. "You surprised me."

"I'm sorry." He said, letting his hand rest on hers, and her eyes stole a glance before meeting with his. "You stole my jacket." He said, narrowing his eyes playfully, she looked down at the crumpled garment beneath her and pulled it out, trying to shake the wrinkles from it. She looked downright rattled at the thought, his hands on hers were all that could stop the frantic motion, her eyes catching his. "It's okay." He whispered. "I brought you coffee."

"What time is it?" She managed to croak, her eyes flashing to the small tray with two cups of coffee sitting, the steam rising unceremoniously from the lids.

"It's a little before seven."

A bit of panic rose in her eyes as she sat up a little straighter. Her eyes panned the office quickly. "Everyone is going to be here soon. I look awful, I have to shower, change." She said, trying to stand up, she found his hand was still in hers, and he helped her to stand, forgetting about the cut on her foot, she faltered, letting out a pain filled exclamation. His arms were around her immediately, catching her from her misstep, she gritted her teeth in pain, noting the look of panic in his eyes. "My foot." She whispered.

"What happened to your foot?" He asked, looking down, he saw the bandage and very carefully helped her to sit.

"I stepped on a broken piece of glass." She whispered, pulling her foot to her lap, she noted the crimson color of the bandage, her eyes remained on the cut. "I think the laceration cut quite deeply."

He sat crouched beside her, watching as she slowly unrolled the gauze from her foot, his eyes remaining on her flesh as she revealed the open cut to him. "I think you're going to need stitches, Bones." He whispered. "I'm assuming you're up to date on your shots? I don't want you to end up getting lock jaw, or gangrene. How would we chase suspects if you're missing a foot?"

Her irritated glare was enough to lighten the mood immediately. There was nothing like a ridiculous question to turn the tide on their next course of action, and she didn't even give him the satisfaction of a reply right away. "I don't think it needs stitches." She replied, lifting her eyes to his so that he knew that she was sure. She paused for a moment, rewrapping the cut carefully with the bandage, averting her eyes to her foot so that she had something else to focus on besides his intense stare. "Why did you come back?"

"To bring you coffee." He replied immediately, his eyes flashing to the coffee and back to her, he noticed her confusion. "You can't start your day without a cup of coffee, Bones."

Her eyes moved over his features, trying to see beyond the devilish smile, and the attitude that was much different than she had seen from him in weeks. It wasn't forced, it wasn't fake, it wasn't an attempt to get her to talk to him. He was being completely honest with her, from the sincerity in his eyes, to the tender touch of his hand on hers. She was quiet, carefully cataloguing the exhaustion in his face, and the sadness that was present in his eyes, though he made no attempt to hide it. He hadn't changed his clothes, and still wore the rumpled shirt from hours earlier, complete with the fleck of blood from her nails digging into his skin, and the smudge of lipstick on the collar from grasping him after her earlier nightmare. She cleared her throat. "I should go home."

"Let me take you home."

His immediate response surprised her, and she felt her mind suddenly clouded with doubt and confusion. "Why are you here?"

"I brought you coffee, and I can take you home." There was a pause. "We can talk."

"Talk." The word tasted funny in her mouth, sounded almost foreign, and felt odd coming from her lips, and even more strange coming from his.

"We should go before people start getting here." He said, standing up, he reached over to the arm of the couch and pulled her shoes from where he had left them earlier. "Can you walk alright? Do you need an arm to lean on?" He asked, watching her pull her shoe on over her bandaged foot, and sliding the other on effortlessly, if but a bit slowly.

She turned her eyes on him and watched his hand reach out for hers. "I would appreciate your help." She gripped his hand and allowed him to help her into a standing position. Immediately, they found themselves chest to chest, their eyes imploring one another's curiously, as she allowed a glint of humor tickle the corners of her blue eyes. "Thank you." She whispered, her eyes flicking to his lips just in time to see the slight smile that rose upon his lips.

"Anytime." He said softly, carefully locking his arm in hers, as he grabbed the tray with the coffees, and slowly led her toward the exit of the lab, arm in arm.


	25. Try To Wash The Pain Away With Water

The silence in the car crackled like radio static, as it enveloped the two occupants completely. Their eyes remained on the road ahead, though at times taking a small trip to the opposite seat, casually resting upon the other person, causing that crackle to ebb and flow. Booth's eyes traveled to Brennan's foot, noticing that it had slipped from her shoe and rested tenderly on the floor of the truck. He wanted to ask her if she was in pain, but instead kept silent, knowing that if the pain were too much she would be the one to mention it. They sipped their coffee silently, the warm liquid lifting their spirits just a bit, but not enough to completely pull the cloud of exhaustion from their minds and bodies.

He pulled the SUV to the front of her building, passing along a permissive glance that earned him a nod. He then pulled his exhausted body from the car and walked around to her side. Her door was open, but in the time it took him to walk around, she had nestled her foot back in her shoe and was hanging slightly from the seat, preparing to land on her good foot when he made it to her side. He held his arm out, helping her from the SUV, and allowing her to put all of her weight on his worn body, keeping his exhaustion from her as best as he could, she looked to him and noted that he wasn't fooling her. Her weight lifted off him a bit, and he closed the door behind him, ensuring the doors had locked as they began to walk toward the door.

"You can rest on my couch if you'd like." She said softly, her eyes catching his as the corner of his lip turned up.

"I'm alright, Bones." He said, nodding, helping her up the stairs to her building, they walked into the front door and toward the elevator. He held her securely in his arm, even on the elevator ride where his support wasn't needed, he kept that physical connection alive, kept her warmth against him. The elevator doors opened loudly, and Booth looked up as the doors opened, gripping her a bit tighter in his arms, he walked with her toward her door.

She released his arm reluctantly to pull her keys from her bag, and he watched her hand tremble slightly as she tried to put the key in the lock. He reached his hand out and touched her hand, catching her eyes as he helped her unlock the door. "Thank you." She whispered. He gave her a simple smile and nodded, pulling his hand away as she pushed them through the door, pulling the key with her as she dropped it on the table beside the door.

"I'm going to make some coffee, okay?" He asked, watching her nod as she paused, turning to face him. "I know where it is, Bones." He said, watching her sleepy smile as she shook her head and dropped her eyes to the floor with a laugh before shuffling toward her bedroom.

She disappeared into her bedroom, closing her eyes as she stepped toward her bed, tempted to climb into the covers, she was confident that Booth knew his way around the kitchen, he didn't need her guidance. She turned sharply at the mattress, reminding herself that she still had work, she had a victim to find justice for, and she had her partner waiting in the kitchen making coffee. She pulled at her clothes, feeling a bit dingy and dirty as she stripped down to her bra and panties, stepping into the bathroom, she allowed the water to run, her hand slipping under the warm flowing water. She sat for a moment at the edge of the tub, trying to decide if she should take a bath or a shower, she opted for the shower, flipping the small lever on the tub, she stood up and allowed the spray to fly into the air and out of the shower head. She felt a bit dizzy, standing so quickly and grabbed hold of the wall for a moment, stumbling, she knocked over a bottle of shampoo, sending it slamming to the ground.

She laughed at her clumsiness, sighed and shook her head as she lifted the bottle from the floor, and was not surprised in the least when she heard a gentle rapping on the door. "Yes?" She said softly, a bit of humor in her voice.

"Are you okay in there, Bones?"

"I'm okay." Her reply was weak. "I just dropped a shampoo bottle."

"You're sure?"

"I'm okay, Booth." She paused. "Thank you for checking on me."

"If you need me, Bones..."

"I'll call you." She said softly, smiling at his thoughtfulness, she waited for a moment before peeling her underclothes off, and then climbed slowly under the hot stream of water. The moment she was under the hot flow of water, she felt refreshed and alive. The gentle massage of the water over her body felt heavenly as she poured body wash onto her hand and smoothed it over her skin, leaning against the wall she breathed deeply. The gentle scent of her soap invaded her senses, making her feel both tired and awake at the same time. She looked down at the now limp bandage on her foot, hanging wet and soaked with blood, she peeled it back and felt the sting from the water slamming into the deep laceration on her foot. She sat down in the tub, allowing the dried blood mix with the new flow of blood from the now open cut, turning the water a light pink color as she stared at the open cut, feeling the pain of the hot water hitting her open wound.

She was startled from her reverie with the knock on the door, and pulled herself up, gripping the side of the tub, she peeked out from behind the curtain. "What is it, Booth?" She called, the water still slamming her skin methodically. She heard a pause, and his voice. "I can't hear you, what was that?" She called again. "Booth, just open the door."

The door opened slowly, and she was covered by the shower curtain, but he still gave her the courtesy of looking to the floor when he opened the door. "I was just saying that I called the office and bought us some time. I just said we were following a lead on a suspect."

"Did you call the lab?" She asked, watching the top of his head with a bit of amusement, she could hear the apprehension in his voice.

"I left a message with Cam." He replied, pausing for a moment, and she wondered if there was anything more.

"Thank you." She said, watching his head move in a nod. "I'll be out in a couple of minutes." She said, hearing his mumbled response, he disappeared out the door and closed it behind him.

She pulled herself back under the hot stream of water, tipping her head back, she could feel the dull ache of her muscles fighting her will to keep standing, and she once again found herself leaning against the wall for support. She stood there for what could have been a minute, or ten minutes, the water simply splashing against her skin, dropping in rivulets down her skin to the tub floor, where it danced with the still present blood from her cut. She turned and quickly began the ritual of washing her hair, closing her eyes as she massaged her scalp, letting the water wash the soap from her hair and her body as she let her mind drift and dance along with the water, until it began to run a bit cool. The now cool water splashing on her skin only managed to wake her a bit more from her sleepy trance, and she lifted her hand to the knob, turning the water off with one quick flick of her wrist. She pulled a towel from the towel rack, and wrapped it around herself, wrapping her hair with another. She stepped from the tub and grabbed hold of the sink as another wave of dizziness shook her, making her knees knock slightly as she closed her eyes against the spinning room. She sat on the small bench beside the vanity, pulling herself back into reality and out of the dizzying spin, and lifted her foot into her lap. She reached for the drawer and opened it, pulling out gauze wrap and antibiotic ointment as she once again wrapped her injured foot securely, being sure to inspect it thoroughly before covering it, and standing up carefully.

She felt her stomach growl in insistence, and she ignored the hunger pang that had suddenly hit her, pulling on her bathrobe, she secured it with the tie and pulled her hair from the towel. She stood by the mirror of the vanity and slowly pulled the brush through her hair, staring at her exhausted reflection in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. She closed her eyes against the reflection and put her brush on the sink, she then turned and walked from the bathroom with a careful limp.

The moment she stepped into her bedroom, she noticed that her bed was no longer empty, and she couldn't help but smile at the exhausted form that had somehow landed the wrong way across her bed. He lay on his stomach, his eyes closed in a peaceful dream, and his striped socked feet hang limply off the edge of the bed. She took a moment of pause, walking slowly around her bed, she observed him from each angle, half expecting him to awaken or move. There was no movement, only silence but for the gentle snore that came from the sleeping man, his nose wiggling against the tickle of the blankets that he had nestled his body among.

She knelt at the end of the bed, leaning tenderly on the mattress, it didn't move him, and he didn't move, only slept with the peacefulness of a mind released of all worry and fear. She watched his face, following his bone structure, his strong jaw line, the curve of his chin, the prominence of his brow. She sat with her hands just inches from him, wanting to reach out to him, to wake him, yet knowing that he was just as exhausted as she. Her finger reached out to touch his lips, those soft, warm lips that had pulled her from her fears so resolutely and confidently, though she didn't touch him. She couldn't bring herself to touch him in this peaceful moment, because it wouldn't be fair. It was then that her mind began its tug back into reality, into the moment. He had spoken nothing of what he had done between the time he had left her office, and the time he had returned. He had spoken nothing of Hannah, his love, or his situation.

She could feel her heart beating wildly, her breathing a bit erratic as she let a soft gasp escape her lips. Her stomach began to do somersaults, and panic began to rise in her chest. She had no proof that this was anything more than her partner, being her partner. She had no reason to believe that he was there for any other reason than to bring her coffee, to rest, to recharge before they moved back into their symbiotic relationship as partners and nothing more. A whimper escaped her lips as she tipped backwards on her knees, her head dropping to focus on the floor, but with one swift movement from the man on the bed, she was stopped.

His hand was on hers, grasping it, holding it, pressing his flesh into her soft skin, her eyes lifted and was rewarded with his soft, somber gaze. "Where are you going?" He whispered, the low grumble in his voice caught her off guard, and she sat staring at him, her mouth open just a bit. His grasp on her hand remained strong, and his eyes didn't waver, even when hers did.

"I didn't want to wake you." She whispered, her voice sounding frightened and small, her tongue darting out across her lips, she could almost taste him on the tip of her tongue.

"Well, it's too late for that, isn't it?" He said, his eyes smiling back at her, she felt a slight tug at her hand. "You're exhausted."

"So are you."

"Sleep with me."

Her mouth hung open slightly at his words, her throat dry, but her eyes focused on his. She wanted to speak, she wanted to ask him questions, she wanted to know the truth, but no words would suffice.

She chose silence.

She chose silence and carefully stood on her uninjured foot, pushing herself onto the soft covers. He released her hand for just a moment, feeling her body melt into his as she pressed her back into him. He wrapped his arm around her, nestling his chin on her shoulder, his lips just a breath from her neck with hand slowly kneading her hand in his, as he breathed her in and closed his eyes. There would be plenty of time for talking, but for now it was time to rest.


	26. Why Does Fear Feel Like The Status Quo?

The first thing that she noticed when she began to awaken was the low rumbling sound of his voice against her hair. She could feel his arm around her, holding her tightly against him as his lips kept a steady vigil on the top of her head. She wanted to speak, but let him whisper, his voice confident and unmarred by fear or self doubt.

Internally, she wondered what time it was, and how much time they had remaining of their little reprieve from the case they were supposed to be pursuing. She closed her eyes just a little tighter, and listened to his soft voice whispering into her hair, and she wondered if he wanted her to hear her, or if he was content that she was asleep.

"For all of the talking we do sometimes, we never say what needs to be said." His voice gently massaged its way into her mind. She shifted in his arms, just a tiny bit and his words stopped cold. There was just a slight pause, and a release of breath. She couldn't tell whether or not he was acting as if he had gotten caught, or if he was glad that she had awoken. "We should get to the office." He whispered, indicating nothing of what he had said, she felt slightly disappointed that he had glossed over his words and went straight to business. She knew there was no ignoring it, no pretending, no use even trying.

"You had desecrated the very core of who I am." She spoke slowly, deliberately, and her words made his body stiffen against her. He was shocked by those words, and she felt guilty for saying them, for being so vague, but it was the start. "In my nightmare." Those three words, and she could hear his exhale of relief.

"Tell me." He whispered in her ear. She shivered at the warmth of his breath on her skin, and immediately felt guilty for that. He was a taken man, unless he told her otherwise, and he had done no such thing. "It's alright, Bones." He said as if he knew what she was thinking, simply by the way she sucked in that sharp breath at his words. "My integrity is not going to be compromised."

She turned just then in his embrace, holding tightly to her bathrobe, partially for cover, partially to hide her fear, but her eyes met his, and she could see the truth that was lying behind the sincerity in his eyes. They weren't the cold eyes from her nightmares, they had never been. Those irrational fears, and images in her mind were what had been driving her, and for that she felt her heart sink. She realized for a moment that she wasn't sure what she was expecting to see when she finally faced him. "I can't tell you."

"Why?" His voice rumbled, his eyes strictly on hers, nowhere else.

"Because it is counterproductive."

"Talking of your fears is not counterproductive."

"They are irrational fears. There is no point in addressing irrational…"

"Bones." He said softly, interrupting her excuses. "You gave me that journal, you told me everything, every detail. It can't stop there. Tell me."

She sucked in a deep breath and watched him, her brow furrowing as she scrunched her face up in a pain filled expression. "I… can't."

"You will." He whispered. "I'm right here, I won't be offended."

"We should get to work." She said suddenly, trying to push from him, she found his arms were already tightly wound around her. "Please." She whimpered.

"You started with the communication. You can't end it there. I have bruises on my back from landing on the table in your office, scrapes… your fingernails drew blood. I deserve to know what made your nightmare so real, so violent. Tell me what you want so that your subconscious isn't fighting for it anymore. Tell me because you love me, and you want me to know everything about you. Tell me because I'm willing to do anything to make these nightmares stop. Tell me because I love you."

She still looked frightened, she still looked terrified. "I dreamed that I had woken up… woken up in my office. I… heard your voice in the lab, and I looked out, and you were with Hannah…" She swallowed.

"I was with Hannah…"

Her eyes closed tightly. "Yes."

"Oh…" He said, cringing. "With her…"

"Yes."

"On the platform?"

"Yes." She said, tears rolling down her cheeks. "She pushed the… the remains to the floor." Brennan started to breathe deeply, trying to control her hiccups. "You didn't care… you didn't even… you said such mean things about me, such horrible things."

"Bones." He said softly, pulling her body into his a little tighter, he held her as she cried.

"I tried to stop you, and that's when I woke up."

"I don't blame you for saying you hated me. I'm so sorry." He whispered. "I would never hurt you like that."

"I know." She said, gritting her teeth as she pushed from his hold. "I know you wouldn't do that, and that's why it hurt so much." She said, trying to compose herself, she found that she couldn't. Her body was trembling against his, and he simply held her close to him, allowing her body to melt into his a little farther.

There was silence but for her tears, and his soft, tender words, and it was suddenly shattered by the sound of her cell phone ringing. She gasped, looking up at the clock, noting that it was nearly eleven, and they had been sleeping through their work day, she tried to roll from him, and he kept his arm around her. "Booth, I have to answer that…"

"Let it go to voice mail." He said, catching her eyes. "Just let it go to voice mail for now."

"But what if it's Angela? What if it's about the case?" She whispered.

"Angela knows how to use voicemail, Bones. She's a big girl. Just calm down, okay? If it is Angela, she'll know that you're upset. Unless you're ready to face the questions that she'll have, just… calm down and let it go to voicemail." He spoke slowly and rationally, and she nodded her head. "Bones?" He whispered, watching the sparkle in her eye. "Can I use your shower?"

"Of course." She said, noting his disheveled appearance, he still looked exhausted, and she could only imagine how tired she looked right now. "Did you sleep alright?"

He nodded, a tender smile on his lips. "You?"

"I'm too exhausted to dream." She whispered. "Thank you." She felt his grip loosening as he watched the shy look on her face replace the tired and exhausted expression that had been there just a moment ago.

"I'm going to take a shower. I always have a spare suit in the truck."

"Man of action." She replied.

He smiled as she felt him starting to sit up. He was just about there, when he lifted his hand and swung around, his legs straddling her as she held her bathrobe closed as she nearly let out a squeak of surprise. Her eyes widened as he moved above her. He anchored himself on either side of her, their eyes showing a bit of playfulness. He leaned down, and just as his lips were about hers, she could hear his smile. "Man of action." He whispered, letting out a tiny growl, as he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss, before finishing his roll to the edge of the bed, where he left her lying on her back, clutching her bathrobe, watching him with a wanting stare as he let out a playful chuckle and slipped into the bathroom.


	27. They Clung To One Another Forever

Once the water was running for a minute or two in the bathroom, Brennan rolled from the bed and moved toward her closet. She arranged some clothes and quickly got dressed, listening for the water the entire time. She stepped out into the bedroom just as the water stopped, and her phone began to ring again. She bent down to pick up the discarded phone and saw Angela's name across the screen, and she held the phone to her ear.

"Brennan." Her voice was a bit airy, though it didn't waver. She still felt exhausted despite her dreamless sleep, but knew that a simple nap wasn't going to get her back to where she needed to be in terms of rest.

"Thank God you answered the phone. I was about to come over to your apartment to look for you. Where are you?" Angela asked, the frantic sound in her voice not lost on her friend, though she was unsure of the sudden panic. The tone of Angela's voice made Brennan's heart quicken its pace, and she held her breath for a moment. She held her breath until she found her voice again.

"I'm at home. Angela, are you alright?"

Her friend's questions were quickly fired in her direction, and there was barely a breath between words let alone questions, as she interrogated her friend at full speed. "Why didn't you answer your phone a little while ago? I've called you at least four times. Cam said you were working on the case, and I called Booth's office, they said the same thing, but your car is still in the parking garage. When did you leave last night? Are you…"

"Angela." She said, her voice short and a bit loud, she looked up when she saw the bathroom door open, and Booth looking out at her with a concerned expression. Her eyes were wide with worry, and she held her finger to her lips to tell him not to say anything. He nodded his head and walked out of the bathroom in his pants, the button undone, and his white t-shirt on as he buttoned the pants.

He nodded toward the door, indicating that he was going downstairs to get his spare suit, and she simply nodded as he walked toward her, dropping a simple kiss on her head as he felt her hand grasp his for a moment. He stood there above her, holding her hand as he kissed her again, resting his cheek on her head as he waited for her to let him continue on. After a moment or two, her hand loosened on his and he took a step away, giving her one more look as she nodded, allowing a grateful smile to slide onto her lips.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" Angela asked, waiting this time for an answer, the panic was simmering on the edge of her voice. "Brennan, answer me."

"I was sleeping." She said, waiting for her friend's reply, but she simply heard a sigh. A sigh of irritation, or one of relief, Brennan was unsure of, but she waited for Angela's response.

"You were sleeping?"

"Yes."

"Bren, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Angela." She replied, her voice ridding itself of the tired tinge to it, in order to prove to her friend that she was alright. "I promise, I'm fine." There was a very, very long pause on the other end of the line, and Brennan listened for a moment. Angela was being very quiet, and it seemed to be quite odd to Brennan.

"I found blood in your office, Bren. Broken artifacts… what the hell happened last night?" Angela asked in a grave voice, waiting patiently for Brennan's explanation. "Booth was here."

"Yes." She replied simply. "He came to help me with our case."

"And you had an argument?"

"No." She said, closing her eyes, she held her breath for a moment. "No, we didn't argue."

"Then what happened? I need an answer, Bren. There was blood… your first aid kit was out. Did he hurt you?"

"Angela, don't be ridiculous!" Brennan exclaimed as she stood up, she began to pace. "Booth would never hurt me. Never. Why would you even say that?"

"Because you're not telling me anything!" She stated angrily. "You have been withdrawn from your friends, your family. You don't sleep, you hardly ever eat, and you never leave your office. The one day I come to work and find you not in your office, I find drops of blood and broken things lying on the floor of your office along with articles of your partner's clothing, and a box of evidence strewn all over your desk! Now just give me a straight answer and tell me! What happened?"

She was startled by the door opening, and Booth's eyes caught the panic stricken look in her eyes as soon as he stepped in the room. He tossed the garment bag with the suit onto the bed and stepped up to her, enveloping her in his arms from behind, hugging her body to him, she nearly let out a tiny moan, but held it in as he tucked his chin over her shoulder. He dropped a tender kiss on her cheek, and she found her voice once again.

"Booth came to help on the case… fan letters. I fell asleep on the couch, and had a nightmare. I broke one of the artifacts on the coffee table… and the blood was from when I stepped on a piece." She relaxed into his arms as soon as she said it, letting him hold her for a moment, she closed her eyes against his embrace.

"And he took you home?"

"Yes." She whispered. "He let me sleep, he will… be here to pick me up soon." She replied, feeling his gentle squeeze as he kissed her right behind the ear, she had a sharp intake of breath.

"Bren, you okay?"

"Yeah." She said, turning for a playful glare at her partner's mischievous grin. "I just put weight on my injured foot. I will be in this afternoon."

"I'm holding you to your word, Brennan." Angela's voice was stern and serious.

"I know." She replied. "I'll be in soon. Thank you for checking on me, Angela."

"I'm glad that you got some sleep."

"Me too." She said, flipping the phone closed, she paused for a moment against Booth's arms, feeling a tender kiss behind her ear again, as it moved to her neck. This time, she let the tiny moan escape her lips as she pushed back in his arms.

"Sorry I almost got you in trouble." He whispered.

"You almost got yourself in trouble." She said, turning in his arms, she faced him, looking up into his eyes. Her eyes were crystal clear, and her lips were trembling slightly with unspoken words. "Tell me. I need to hear the words before you kiss me."

"I love you." He said, without pause or a breath. "I love you, Temperance Brennan and I am yours… if you want me forever, I'm yours. I told Hannah the truth, I told her that I love you, and I know that I hurt you, and I know that I hurt her… but you're the one that I lose sleep over, you're the one that I worry about. You're the one that I need to protect. You're the one that I want to be with, forever." He paused, watching her head tilt. "For as long as that might be."

"I love you too." She whispered, leaning up to capture his lips with hers, he matched her passion wholeheartedly, as they both clung to one another for dear life, dear love, forever.

* * *

**_The end._**

**_Thank you for reading. I appreciate your words and thoughts. Let me know if I left anything unresolved, I just felt that the ending was natural here. Again, Thank you for reading!_**


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